#i need to make more that shelf looks too damn empty now;;

[ravengards-rogue]

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x fem! reader [vol i, vol ii, vol iii, vol iv]

⚠️trigger warnings: mentions of a exual assault, accusations, mentions of domestic abuse, teenage drinking, panic attacks etc

w/c: 7.9k

a/n: s/o to all my favorite people helping me continuously with this series! @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @jo-harrington !! 💋💋💋💋💋

You’re spinning, spinning, spinning. If you couldn’t smell your own hair products on your pillow, you would swear that you were in a dystopian world, twirling like a frisbee through a pink blossomed sky and being caught in a three headed cat's mouth.

It’s true, hangovers get worse with age, but you were only twenty one— and they’re supposed to go up from here? What happened to ‘the best years of your life’? Whoever said that should be shot and killed on site. Stupid bastard.

Opening your eyes seems like the worst idea you could do, so you don’t. You slowly let your other senses bring you back to reality. You recognized that you were in your bed. Something soft is wrapped around you and judging by the feel of the fabric between your fingers it’s your robe.

A pungent smell of sour bile presents on your breath, one whiff of it and it’s instantaneous: vomit.

Fuck, that would explain the burning in your throat and the graveling dry sensation in your mouth

Pieces of the puzzle that was last night start fitting into place in your mind.

The drinks. The shots. The food. The clinking sound of ice in Steve’s Bloody Mary as he tipped it back and the ice swam towards his teeth, is like nails on a chalkboard.

Oh Christ how there had been so many drinks. Damn Robin and her mischievous ideas for wanting to do shots. Memories of the fiery tingle of the top shelf vodka Steve insisted on having, hitting your lips is enough to make you pass out.

The hollow feeling in your stomach gets queasy as you remember the greasy bar food served at Louie’s. Your stomach quenches, clutching around itself, ridding its salmon colored lining of the disastrous evening.

But nothing comes up. Just heaving dryly in your bed as tears escape your eyelids and your feet hit the floor. Throwing your body into a whirlwind of dizzy flips— your brain swimming in a sea of Diet Coke and Malibu, membranes bursting with the carbonated bubbles.

You’ve never needed a toothbrush more than you do right at this very second. You stand and the world feels like its raging war on your head. Pulsing and throbbing, like a concert was playing in your head and the guitar solo never ended.

You open your door and are met with the thought of how the fuck did you get here last night? Fuck it, you’d ask questions later, for now you needed to empty your bladder and brush your teeth.

As soon as you lay a hand on the bathroom door, Eddie emerges from his bedroom. Sweatpants are riding dangerously low on his hips and purpling hickies decorate his neck. He’s rubbing his eyes but when he catches sight of you he smiles lazily.

“Holy hell,” Eddie quips, eyes scanning over your body. You robe is hanging loosely off one shoulder, it’s crooked but the tie is in place covering your lower half. They land on the wild mess of hair atop your head, “normally I’d say good morning but it’s—“ he leans back into his room to look at his alarm clock, chuckling at the realization, “—two in the afternoon.”

You don’t fight Eddie for the shower, too tired and weak to argue. You fumble through the medicine cabinet finding the ibuprofen and the Disney cup with the swirly straw on the sink, filling it and taking the slick coated medicine. Swallowing harshly, your throat still raw and aching.

You settle for brushing your teeth while Eddie is in the shower. He’s singing Teen Spirit and getting louder and louder. The circles of the vigorous brushing of your teeth mixed with Eddie’s singing are making your head pound. A long look in the mirror leaves you suddenly feeling embarrassed, as if you needed to look drop dead gorgeous at every single minute you’re around him.

What the hell is going on?

“Please,” you beg, spitting the last bit of toothpaste into the sink, “for the love of everything holy— stop.”

The screeching noise of the shower curtain rings being pulled back pull your head up as you see Eddie half naked, torso covered in soap and your loofah in his hand, the dripping curls on his head turned to long waves with the weight of the water.

“Don’t act like I don’t sing like an angel, sweetheart,” he says with a wink, “besides, lying is not good for your health.”

The suds are traveling south, further and further and further downward, your eye fixated on one particular bubble as it pops right at his belly button.

You train your eyes on his, your cheeks heat from your staring. You reach up and shut the curtain.

“I wasn’t saying you sound bad—I just feel like my head is going to implode.”

Eddie thinks for a minute, “want me to sing you a lullaby? I’d put your baby ass to sleep just like I did last night.”

A million different scenarios flood your mind of what happened last night.

Did you kiss him? You remembering staring at his lips, the soft pillowy pinks, the way his tongue peak—

Oh fuck.

Are the hickies on his neck from you? His Adam apple bobs as he swallowed.

Shit.

Did you sleep together? Blankets, over your head.

What the fuck?

Where are your pants? You can’t even remember what pants you were wearing.

Where’s your car? Did you drive home?

Did Eddie pick you up from the bar?

Did he see you puke? You faintly remember puking on the floor of the front seat of a vehicle.

Your head continues to spin as you sit on the edge of the closed toilet seat. Suddenly feeling violated and disgusting.

“Tooty?” Eddie’s voice rings out.

This time you’re the one throwing open the curtain. Ignoring him as he shields himself with your loofah and his arm. “Jesus Chr—!“

“How fucking dare you!”

“What?!”

“You fucking pig, how could you do that to me!”

“Do what!” Eddie yells back

Your tossing shampoo bottles and bars of soap at his naked body, he’s surprisingly agile, dodging every one.

“How could you sleep with me when I was that drunk?! Jesus Christ I can’t believe you! Why would you do that to me?!”

Tears well in your eyes, you can’t believe that someone you once trusted, and were getting used to trusting again, after only being able to confide in three people over the last five years, would do something so vile, so fucking awful.

“After everything we’ve been through? I’ve known you since I was a kid Eddie! I get drunk one time and you take it upon yourself to forc— “

“Tooty!” Eddie hollers, turning the water off to the shower and stepping around you out of the way to grab a towel, he wraps it around his waist and turns to face you again.

“I didn’t do anything to you.” His eyes are wild but filled with hurt, he lowers his voice, and backs away from you. “If you don’t believe me, call Harrington. I talked to him after I carried your drunk puking ass to your own bed last night!”

“Then where are my pants?! If you ‘didn’t do anything to me’ where are my pants at?!” Eddie heads into the kitchen and pulls the short overalls you were wearing off the back of a chair, still damp from the wash. He tosses them towards you and they land at your feet.

“I washed them because you barfed all over them and I thought you would appreciate them being cleaned instead of in a vomit covered ball on the bathroom floor!”

Your accusations sting his eyes, and burn his nose.

You blink rapidly and rack your brain, the blurry sight of Steve’s car covered in puke comes into view. You struggling to get your clothes off alone in the bathroom. One? Or maybe two girls yelling at him as his back is turned to you, Eddie’s honey dripped voice talking to you as you throw up into the toilet, cheek nestled against the seat. And finally, the feel of his chest on your cheek as he carries you to your room, arms and hands never touching you inappropriately.

Before you can apologize Eddie is thrusting the cordless phone into your palm, Steve’s voice faintly heard from the speaker. He turns with a huff and not another look towards you as he slams his bedroom door shaking the frame.

-

Shutting your bedroom door, Eddie hangs his head, his forehead and one palm on the door, a small smile gracing his lips. His head is spinning, he’s not drunk, in fact he only had one beer tonight, right before their set started.

What is this feeling inside of him? Butterflies in his stomach? Nah, that shit was juvenile. He could only pray that it was indigestion, nothing a couple gulps from a Pepto Bismol bottle couldn’t fix. But he couldn’t deny it.

The instinctual gut feeling of needing to protect you rang true all day. He was ready to fight everyone and anyone who talked ill of you. He just couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t felt this protective of someone since his own mother. He didn’t even feel this way towards Chrissy, and they dated for almost a year.

He pulls his head from the door, wondering if he should have put you on your side so if you vomited in your sleep you wouldn’t choke. He shakes his head, removing his hand slowly down your door, letting his fingers hang to his side.

What is this? Why is he acting like a parent? He rubs his eyes and turns to go to bed, your wadded up overalls in his peripheral vision. Would it be weird? Him washing your clothes? It’s not like your panties were in here it was just the overalls. He could be a good guy, he could be a decent human being, for you— he’d be it all.

Stomping down the dingy, murky basement steps he quickly throws your overalls into the washing machine, adding way too much powdered Era but figuring it was better than having them stink like puke. Slamming the metal lid closed with a wonky bang, he trots back up the stairs.

Stomach grumbling and realizing the only thing he had to eat all day were the poptarts he packed for work, he opens the fridge. Inside sitting on a shelf is a fading spaghetti stained Tupperware, on the lid is a sticky note, and written in your beautiful loopy handwriting:

“Got off work early and made the Tater tot casserole. Warm it up in the microwave for a minute thirty, hope you had a good show tonight. -T ”

-

You didn’t always love when your clients canceled last minute, it meant money gone from your pocket and an annoying increasing anxiety building in your gut when bills showed up. But today, you could actually enjoy the sun's rays on your shoulders for a bit as you drove down the streets of Hawkins, stopping at Bradleys Big Buys to get a pound of ground beef and a can of cream of mushroom soup.

Pushing the cart through the aisles you found the two items you came for, hoping to make it home early so that you could make the casserole before Eddie played tonight, or maybe he could enjoy it when he got home.

Cooking for someone was a labor of love, the simplest act of kindness anyone could offer. That’s what Karen Wheeler had taught you when she would spend her Saturday’s teaching you and Nancy how to cook good hearty meals that would last a while so you wouldn’t starve in college.

“And someone enjoying the food you cook? Girls, that’s the best feeling in the world.”

She wasn’t lying. Even that first week with the lasagna when Eddie had basically came in his pants with every bite, you felt a skip in your chest.

It was the least you could do after he gave you a sense of calm whenever he was around. You didn’t trust many people. Not after what happened. In fact Nancy, Steve and Robin were the only people you could put any sort of hope in.

After browning the ground beef with an chopped onion and mixing the canned ingredients together, you season the mixture with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. One last wipe around the bowl with your spatula and it was good to go. Spreading the mixture into a greased 9 x 13 inch pan and added shredded cheese, you line the tater tots across in horizontal rows and toss it in the oven, covering the dish with tinfoil.

-

Steve confirms everything that had happened. Even down to the minor details of you calling him ‘Steeb’. You feel stupid. Your stomach sank when he said that Eddie had stayed up all night making sure your overalls were clean and that you weren’t choking on your vomit.

“He’s a good dude, Tooty,” he explains, “he’s a perv and a complete douche most of the time, but he would never in a million years do that to someone, especially you.”

“…I know.”

“But do you?” Steve prods, “you said so yourself that he kinda looked out for you, almost better than your own brother did.”

“He did— but that’s just because I was with Chrissy’s brother and he was dating Chrissy.”

“That doesn’t matter, what does matter is that he’s a good guy— someone trustworthy. Make it right.”

With that Steve hung up.

You sit on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like a big pile of shit for what you did. Eddie wouldn’t understand. How could he? You blatantly accused him of doing something that you know in your heart and in your soul that he never could have done. Tears drop from your eyes and into your palms. You allow yourself to cry, something you hated doing, for a few minutes. Angry with yourself for the wrong that you did, but also hurting from the past. When your eyes were puffy and snot was sliding from your nose, you call it quits. Fanning your face you realize you still haven’t taken a shower yet this morning.

Making your way to the bathroom, you turn your head towards Eddie door, Steve was right, you needed to fix this.

But how?

-

The shower was exactly what you needed. The scald from the water was helping ooze the booze from your pores as your dehydrated body soaked it up. Eddie didn’t deserve your harsh words, your accusatory statements, the way his face fell in horror when you screamed at him was burned into your memories, something you saw whenever your eyes were closed. You sit on the floor of the shower. You couldn’t tell him what was going on, you were stronger than that. You didn’t need his sympathy, his pity parade, you would get through this on your own just like you always had. You may have been wrong and and you should probably apologize but you dismiss the idea. What the hell does Steve Harrington know about it?

Eddie bangs on the door, bringing you back to reality.

“What?” You holler out.

“Hurry up so we can go get your car before you accuse me of stealing that too.” His voice is angry and hurt. Finishing up in the shower you leave the bathroom to see an impatient Eddie huffing around the living room, looking at his empty wrist as if he wore a watch and throwing his hands in the air.

“Christ will you hurry the fuck up? I’ve got places to be.”

“Oh fucking relax,” you pout, slamming your door and toweling off. You settle for a pair of denim shorts and a cotton t-shirt. When you reach for the comb to untangle your hair you hear obnoxious honking.

He wouldn’t.

Eddie is sitting in the van laying on the horn. Grabbing your ratty white keds you fly through the house, grabbing your purse and combing your hair as you fling yourself through the door. The pavement is hot on your feet, an exceptionally warm day for September. The hot sun and humid temperatures are the worst mix for a hangover.

Indian summer in full swing.

“Fuck I’m right here, knock it off!” He’s staring at you with dead eyes, hand planted on the horn until you slide your ass onto the cracked leather seat.

Without another word he throws the van in reverse and reaches a hand over to your headrest twisting his body, the cut off flannel he is wearing isn’t buttoned, the powdery musk of his deodorant burns your nose.

Nothing has changed with the old van, tape decks are still littered across the dash, stumped out in the cup holder are a mountain of cigarettes and joints. Too many pine scented Little Trees hanging from the rearview doing a horrible job of hiding the smell of weed. Judas Priest screams through the speakers. You place a foot on the dash to get your shoe on when suddenly you are lurching forward. Eddie taps the brakes.

“No feet on the dash.”

You set your face in a scowl, words bitter on your tongue, “yeah, cause my shoe is really going to hurt the value of this piece of shit. I’m just putting my fucking shoe on since some asshole with a small dick complex couldn’t wait five minutes.”

A mocking chuckle escapes Eddie’s throat, “you really are such a pleasure to be around, how did I get this lucky?.”

“And you’re such a prick,” you seethe, bending over and tying your shoe, “why did you even answer my ad in the paper? All we do is fight because you fucking hate me.”

He’s had enough, slamming his foot onto the pedal, Eddie turns towards you and spits, “Do you really think of me like that? A predator? Someone who would move in with you just to violate you the second you pass out?”

“No I—“

“All the years you’ve known me, you think I’d just up and turn into a fucking rapist?!”

“Jesus Christ Eddie!“

“No, I wanna know, right now,” he turns to you, eyes angry and filled with hurt, “do you get off on this shit? Treating people like they’re nothing? Automatically assuming the worst about someone because of where they grew up? I’m not like that Tooty, I’m not like my—“ he stops himself, pushing his tongue to his cheek, “you are not the girl I knew. I don’t even fucking recognize you.”

“The girl you knew was fourteen, Eddie! My biggest problem back then was wondering who I could convince to buy Boonesfarm for the weekend rager, shit changed. I changed! I had to adapt to shit that was way out of my control. And you don’t even know half of it!”

“You’re right, I don’t and I bet if I were to ask, you wouldn’t even tell me, so fuck it, where am I going?”

“What?”

“I can’t read your mind, where is your car parked?”

You tell him. And as soon as you pull alongside Louie’s and beside your car, you realize you don’t have the keys.

“Open the door. Get out.” Eddie spits in a condescending tone.

Looking at him and smiling, with an extra side of cunt you sing, “I don’t have my keys.”

“Of fucking course.”

Lighting up a cigarette and cranking the wheel Eddie flies through Hawkins. He misses the turn on Kerley to get back home. “Missed the turn,” you announce, putting your other shoe on.

Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs lips tight in a line and exhaling through his nose. “Groceries.” He says through gritted teeth.

Pulling into the grocery store parking lot, Eddie parks, taking up for spots, a tire in each one, before the van even stops moving he’s already out and slamming the door, flicking his cigarette across the parking lot. The heat of the day already high.

Finishing lacing up your other shoe you run across the parking lot to catch up to him. He already has a cart and is whizzing through the aisles before you finally see him. Reaching into your purse you unfold the list and take a look at it.

Dunakaroos

Twizzlers

Gobstoppers

Spaghetti o’s

Bologna

Mayo— NOT MIRACLE WHIP! And no it’s not for that.

Lotion, yes for that 😉

the soft bread, not the brown one.

Carton of reds

Case of Busch Light.

Sunny D

Red kool aid

Hot dogs

Cocoa Puffs

Sliced cheese

Baby food since you think I’m a child (just kidding, don’t be mad)

whatever chips you got with that salsa the one time

My milk— not that skim shit you drink

Your milk— the skim shit

Mac n Cheese

“What kind of a fucking list is this? Most of this shit is snacks.”

“Oh for fucks sake, what are you pissed about now?” Eddie says, dumping two bags of marshmallows into the cart.

You’ve never met a twenty-six year old that ate like he was dining at Willy Wonka’s Factory every night.

“Not a single fruit or vegetable!” You say, waving the list in his face.

“I smoke green, I don’t eat it. Unless you wanna make some pot brownies, I’d eat the shit out of those.” He throws a box of brownie mix into the cart for good measure.

You yank the cart from his hands and turn around, heading back to the produce aisle. He huffs when you place a paper bag of apples neatly in the cart, whines when the bananas sit by your purse, and almost passed out when the tomatoes and a head of lettuce make their way into the cart.

“You’re such a baby! Literally an overgrown man child in the flesh.” He’s walking in front of you mimicking you and whoops! The cart may have slipped out of your hands and made a fleeting dash towards his Achilles tendon, banging against.

“Ouch, Jesus Christ!” Eddie groans under his breath, holding his leg he glares towards you, shooting daggers.

“It slipped,” you smirk.

He scoffs and turns on his heel walking away. You finish in the produce aisle, looking through the boxes of noodles and calculating what you could make for dinner this week. Eddie comes back arms full, you only see his hair sticking out on each side of the three boxes of cereal, a 10 lb ham and seven tubes of cinnamon rolls. He drops them all into the cart with a heavy thud.

After crossing everything off the list and getting a few more things despite Eddie’s protesting exhales, you have a cart full. He seems to have calmed down by the time you make it to the beer fridge, taking two thirty packs of Busch Light and putting them on the bottom of the cart, he rips the side of one of them open and takes a can out. Cracking it open in the middle of the store, downing it. The light colored lager is spilling down his chin, into the collar of his open shirt. He tosses it into a lady’s cart as she’s walking past, wiping the foam from his lips and belching loudly.

You roll your eyes, “You can’t wait until we’re home?”

“What?” He says, looking at you with a stupid grin, “I’m gonna pay for it.”

Waiting in the checkout aisle he cracks another one as he unloads the groceries onto the conveyor belt with one hand. Tossing most of the items onto the belt and grabbing another beer and chugging it. The checkout lady puts her nose in the air and huffs a disapproving grunt.

“I was thirsty.”

“You’re so imp—” your insult is cut short when your eyes sweep over him.

It had been a full two years since you had seen him last. His blonde hair was combed to the side like it always was. The blue of his icy eyes still burned holes through you like dry ice to the exposed skin. The navy blue suit jacket and white Oxford shirt with a red patterned tie and the tan khakis he was wearing suggested he was coming from a late Sunday brunch after church. Awful crippling memories of spending hours ironing those pants to make sure the creases were perfect cloud your memory, you unconsciously hold the two fingers on your left hand, the ones that held misshaped triangle burn scars.

You don’t realize that Eddie is talking or that you’ve stopped moving until the shape of his curly head shakes in front of you. Your breath is hitched in your chest, you feel small. Physically and mentally.

Two years without seeing the face that was the sole purpose of most of the fear in your life. Two years without seeing the demon grin and crazy twitch in his eye. You were frozen in place and your blood ran cold.

It was evil in its truest form. Standing in the checkout behind you— stood Chad Cunningham.

Eddie couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on. Putting the grocery sacks in the cart, he turns to look in your line of vision. He doesn’t recognize him at first. But the strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes ran in the Cunningham blood. He was with a woman, who was so obviously pregnant she seemed like she was about to burst. Judging from the horrific way your eyes were bulged out of your head and the way your body was almost catatonic, Eddie figured it was time to get the fuck out of here. Reaching in his pocket for his wallet he paid the cashier and impatiently waited for the change, keeping his eyes on you.

You were trembling with fear. Not from the sudden run in with an ex but something much deeper than that. Eddie places his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes, “let’s go sweetheart,” he whispers gently, he crowds behind you and puts a small hand on your back, guiding you forward towards the automatic doors. Eddie keeps his head on a swivel for Chad.

The woman who was with him was waddling towards the bathroom, his eyes never leaving your body. As soon as she was out of ear shot, Chad puffed out his chest and said, “Lookin’ good honey bun, I will say though, the downgrade,” he points to Eddie, “..yikes.”

The nickname made your skin crawl. You never liked it, and he knew that. He only said it to get a rise out of you, which was successful. “See you soon,” he gloated, smiling with perfectly straight teeth, eyes never meeting his smile.

You don’t make it five feet outside before the shock wears off and the tears stream down your face in salty waves. Eddie takes control of the cart with his left hand and ushers you forward with his right, minimal pressure on the small of your back as he keeps his head on a swivel, dark curtain of curls crowding his eyes as he moves his head around.

Unlocking the doors he helps you in, buckling your seatbelt and saying he’d be back in thirty seconds. The back doors of the van fly open as Eddie all but tosses the groceries into the back. At thirty seconds exactly, Eddie is back in the van, starting it and roaring out of the parking lot.

He still didn’t know what happened with Chad, but it wouldn’t take an absolute idiot to know that it was bad. Really fucking bad. He looks over to you and your head is stuffed into your shirt, your knees under your chin and you’re rocking back and forth on the seat.

“Five minutes, Tooty— we’ll be home in less than five minutes, okay?” Eddie says, frantically. He’s trying to stay calm. Trying to be the voice of reason, composed and serene. But he is horrified. Scared to death at how you responded to seeing Chad. How your body froze up and your face looked as if you weren’t breathing. Even now, hearing you gasp for air as your body shook and swayed with each turn he made. He slams on the gas, pausing slightly at stop signs and ignoring any yield signs.

He parks in the driveway, coming around to help you out of the van. Just like he did last night, he carries you, only this time you remember it. Your body is shaking violently, chest racked with sobs. His chest is wet with tears from your face being buried into it. He’s whispering to you that everything will be okay. Opening the door he kicks it shut with his boot. He brings you into your room and sits you on your bed, you’re cradled in his lap, like a parent would hold a child. He caresses your head, holding you closer to him. His warm breath in your hair grounds you. You feel him lean forward grabbing on your nightstand for something, the phone.

He dials the number without even thinking. Waiting impatiently on the other end as a familiar voice answers.

“Hello?” Steve breathes boredly into the phone.

Eddie sighs with relief, “Harrington, it’s me.”

“Oh God, listen dude I don’t know what to te—“

“Shut up, Steve.” Eddie interrupts, “listen—something, happened.”

Steve almost chokes on his popcorn, frantically firing off questions. “What? What’s going on? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

“Ye—no, I mean—“ Eddie is stuttering and trying to explain, “we ran into Chad at the gro—“

“I’m on my way!”

The line goes dead and Eddie hears dial tone. He sets the phone back in the holder and wraps a blanket around you. Your heart is racing and you can’t even form words. You haven’t had a panic attack in over a year. It feels like the world is crashing in on you, the walls are tight and shrinking, the whole room feels smaller by the minute. Eddie’s voice is gentle and soothing, like a warm cup of coffee on a cold winter morning.

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” He murmurs, “try to match your breathing with mine.” He remembers what he was taught as a kid. His emotions always ran high and Wayne would have to settle him down, get him to take deep breaths.

He’s rubbing soft circles into your back. Rocking you back and forth. You try to speak but all that comes out are gasps and the whirling noise of sharp intake of breath.

Steve and Robin make it to the house in record time, running to your room and taking everything in. Your disheveled appearance brings Steve to his knees in front of Eddie. Grabbing your hand and squeezing letting you know it was going to be okay.

You slide off Eddie’s lap and lay on the bed, curled in a ball. Robin lays beside you. Brushing your hair from your face with her fingers.

Steve pulls Eddie out of your room with great force he didn’t want to leave but he didn’t know how to help.

“I’m sorry— fuck man, I’m sorry for calling you — I just— she just locked up. She couldn’t talk, she couldn’t move!” He runs his hands down his face, trying to will the tears away. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Hey, give yourself a break, you got her home, she’s safe,” Steve says patting Eddie on the back, “so explain what happened.”

Eddie begins explaining from when you both got to the grocery store. He goes into detail how distraught you seemed, how your body was rigid and full of fear. The burn of tears threatening to spill from his eyes has him blinking quick before they fall. Steve listens intently, face warped with shock and disbelief.

Throwing his head back and running his hands down his face Steve lets out a loud exhale and throws his hands on his hips, “fuck I hate that guy.”

“Yeah he seems like a fucking psycho,” Eddie agrees, “but what the fuck is going on?! I mean yeah they dated but, I don’t stiff up like that when I run into Chrissy or Trish.”

A shiver runs down his spine as he thinks of how upset you were, your body crumbling with fear the minute you made it into the van. Anxiety trickling through your body like electricity to a wire. He hated to admit it but he was scared for you.

Remembering the groceries in the back of the van, the two guys brave the sweltering heat to retrieve them. Eddie starts to put the items away, Steve rolls his eyes watching him put the canned items in the small cabinet designed for spices, the endless snacks he purchased thrown on the counter nestled up against the flour canister and slamming the lettuce into the fridge like a bowling ball.

Eddie could give a rats ass where the things went, he was worried and getting a headache from wondering if you were going to be okay. Half thinking he should find where good ol Chad lived and pay him a nice little visit. Only three tires slashed and the insurance won’t cover it.

Throwing the groceries sacks in the garbage and making his way to the living room, sitting down on the couch, he sits with his elbows on his knees, bouncing them in quick repetitions. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or should I put a paper fortune teller on my fingers and we can decide what’s wrong with Tooty with the help of crayola markers?”

The wailing cries and sobs have dissipated in the last half hour, only Robin’s soothing words can be heard now.

“Dude, it’s not my place to say,” Steve says, “it’s one thing to tell you about her parents and Kevin, but this—“ he takes another deep breath, running his hands through his thick tufts of hair, “this is 100 times worse than that,” Steve explains lowering his head.

“…But you’re right, you’re her roommate and you should know what happened.”

Eddie nods his head slowly, silently agreeing with everything Steve had said. Standing quickly and pacing around the living room, his mind is running a million miles a minute. The fight you two had didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered to him in this moment— the only thing on his mind for the past twelve hours— was you.

Steve stands and runs his fingers through his hair, placing his hands on the waist of the old fading green gym shorts he was wearing. “I’m gonna go talk to her, and when you guys are done, I’m gonna make you guys something to eat. I’m sure you idiots haven’t eaten today given the timing of when shit hit the fan.”

Eddie nods again, biting the fingernails on his right hand until they bled, a habit he hadn’t done since he was a teen, facing possible jail time for destructing private property when he spray painted, “Your mom swallowed EM’s monster cock” on the front doors of Hawkins High. He was pacing, itching for a cigarette. Pulling the pack from his flannel breast pocket he goes outside and sits on the concrete steps, lighting up.

Three squashed cigarette butts sit next to him on the step before Steve finds him. Eddie stands and stubs the cigarette out blowing smoke out of the crooked twist of his lips away from Steve’s face. The nicotine helped take the edge off but he was still anxious, fidgeting his rings.

“H-how is she?” Eddie asks apprehensively, “can I talk to her?”

“She’s better, taking deep breaths and relaxing as best as he can, she’s gonna explain everything, just give her space— let her talk and don’t ask anything until she’s finished.”

“Yeah, ‘f course.”

“Alright. Robin is gonna help me make supper,” Steve says holding opening the front door, face in a grimace he jokes, “wish me luck.”

Eddie was the one who thought he himself needed the luck, he was scared shitless that you were afraid of him.

He walks gently to your room and knocks softly on the door with one knuckle, palm facing him. He remembers just hours ago how he was standing at this very door, and how very different he felt then.

“Come in,” Robin chirps.

Eddie takes a quick breath holding it as he steps foot into your room. You’re sitting on your bed cross legged, blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Your eyes are red rimmed and tissues surrounding you, a cemetery of drying tears. You look at him and muster a smile, a twitch of your lips raising at the corners.

“Well, I’m needed as a sous chef in kitchen a la Harrington,” Robin says brightly, standing from the bed and skipping towards the door. When she passes Eddie she touches his arm squeezing and giving him a reassuring nod.

Eddie stands with his hands stuffed in his pockets as the door clicks shut. You both don’t say anything for a while, you’re twirling the end of the pillowcase in your lap and he’s burning holes with his eyes into the carpet.

“I’m really sorry, Eddie,” you say quietly, “I’m—“ your voice catches in your throat, sore from the the wailing, “I’m hoping that when I’m done telling you, you’ll be able to understand..”

He nods and leans against the wall. Hands wrapped around his triceps.

“Before I explain— I just need you to know that only Robin, Steve, Nancy, and her parents know about this— not my parents, or Kev or anyone else— and now you.

Eddie’s face is full of concern, he whispers an “okay,” and you continue.

“I can’t remember but I’m pretty sure that you and Chrissy started dating around the same time that Chad and I did, and as you remember I’m sure, Chad and I were together almost all the time. When you graduated, and my sophomore year was the year my parents moved away— things changed with him. He was suddenly callous about everything, needing control of who I was with and when. Mostly he was pissed that I was staying with the Wheeler’s. He always thought I was cheating on him with Mike.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, the Mike Wheeler he knew wouldn’t know what to do if a chick laid butt naked in his bed. Probably piss himself.

You work the corner of the pillow case in your fingers as you keep going, “The first time he hit me was on a night that I told him I couldn’t hang out because Mrs. Wheeler wanted everyone home for supper. He called me a slut and told me that I should just go and fuck Mike already even though he knew I wasn’t.”

Eddie’s eyes flicker with anger when you admit that Chad hit you, his fists clenched together tightly. With your head down and looking away from him you continue, your voice wobbly.

“We didn’t even have sex yet, at that time, I wasn’t ready. After he hit me, I thought we should break up. He followed me around, begging me to take him back and like the naive kid that I was, I did. He would be sweet for a few weeks, and then it was like a flip would switch and he’d back hand me for giving Lucas a pencil during History, pulled my hair out in chunks when Mike brought me to school, he even choked me until I passed out when Dustin sat next to me at lunch. He was extremely jealous of everyone around him, and couldn’t handle seeing anyone he didn’t ‘approve of’ be near me. He hated that I worked at Family Video, he would show up almost every shift and wait in the store for me to clock out, even threatening to kick Steve’s ass on more than one occasion. He finally gave up on that when I told him Steve was dating Robin, just so I could go to work in peace.”

Eddie’s gut is rolling, the anger boiling in his blood, his nostrils are flared, it is taking everything in him to not react the way he wants to, a simple trailer park style beating to Chad’s car, his face, whatever would hurt the little prick more. Heads would fucking roll if Eddie ever got ahold of him.

“It didn’t end there. Like I said, we weren’t having sex because I wasn’t ready, I had enough shit going on with my parents up and leaving and buying all the concealer that Melvald’s carried to cover up the bruises.”

You take a shaky breath, fighting back tears for as long as you could. Chewing the inside of your lip and un crossing your legs, bringing your knees to your chest you continue.

“Af—After prom our junior year, we were driving around and he was drinking, I just wanted to go home but he didn’t. He parked way outside of town on the south side, on some dead end road… I mouthed off to him about how cliche it was to lose our virginities on prom night and the next thing I knew,” your voice pitches to a high volume, your lips are tight as you remember the pain you felt in your head from him knocking you out, the way his hands were groping your body, “I was waking up to him on top of me, and inside of me.”

The dam breaks, the tears fall from your eyes like rain in the spring time. You throw your head back against your headboard and sniff loudly, your palms pressed to your eyes.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he’s afraid if he tried to comfort you it would only cause you more pain. Against his better judgment he stands and walks towards the bed, scooting across the lavender bedspread he sits across from you, reaching for your ankle and tenderly squeezing it, letting you know that he was there.

“I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life then when I was dating him,” you sniffle and reach for the tissues, blowing your nose loudly, “Eddie, this went on for years, it didn’t fucking stop. After senior year, he didn’t want me to go to college, because I would be too far away from him, and we argued and he kicked me out on the opposite side of town with two swelling black eyes. By the time I made it back to the Wheeler’s, my eyes were almost shut. That night, I told Ted and a very hysterical, Karen everything, and they called the cops. Of course, Tim Cunningham was the state prosecutor at the time, so it didn’t go far— Hop did what he could but there was never any judgment made against Chad, and everything was over after that.”

“I went to beauty school with Nance, and when we moved back home, I was living in the little apartments off of Sawmill Road, he found out where I was and broke in, luckily Steve and Robin were my neighbors so they heard everything and came running before he could hurt me.

“After that.. Ted and Karen bought this place for Nancy and I and last year I saved up enough and bought it from them. Last I heard, Chad had moved to Indianapolis and was working for his uncle at the law firm until he finished school. I haven’t seen him in over two years— anyway,” you finish, wiping your eyes, and blowing your nose once more, “that’s the story.”

Eddie doesn’t know where to begin, he partially is taking the blame for what happened to you, knowing that if he were there, if he had stuck it out with Chrissy maybe he could have seen the signs, maybe he could have stopped it before it ever started, maybe he could have put that little fucker in his place and made him think twice about ever touching you again. He’s full of regret, full of shame and turmoil as he thinks about how you must have been feeling this morning.

“Oh, Tooty.” Eddie starts his eyes glistening with wetness, heart aching for you, “I’m so sorry, Jesus Christ, I— I don’t even… Fuck! I should have been around.”

“There wasn’t anything anyone could have done— he’s a lunatic.” You take a breath and look down at his hand on your ankle, abandoning the thought of reaching for it at the last minute, “I know you would never do something to hurt me, or anyone— I’m sorry about last night Eddie. I just, I don’t ever get drunk enough to not remember what happened. Not after the shit I’ve been through. ” You fold your arms into your self, wrapping around your ribs, in a small voice you whisper, “and today when I couldn’t remember, I was fucking terrified—going right back to how I felt that night when I was sixteen.”

In the van today, he fully intended on chewing you out, making you feel about three inches tall. He had been accused of many different things during his teenage years. Hell he even spent a night or two in jail after fighting a guy in Indianapolis when he threw a beer at Gareth. But one thing Wayne taught him was to respect women. Sure he wasn’t the average guy, his lever leaned a little further towards pervert than most. But he would never hurt a woman. The way you looked right now scared him. Like you were afraid to be near him. Unsure if he would scream at you or worse. And it broke his heart.

“Sweetheart,” he says, leaning forward, finger dipping under your chin and tilting your head up so you were looking right at him. A fresh brim of tears clung to your lashes, “as long as I’m here, being the thorn in your side, pain in the ass, good looking mother fucker that I am— you don’t ever have to be scared again.”

You shutter, body exhausted and giving in, letting the tears fall.

“Promise?”

Your doe eyes are wet and staring into his, the swirling chocolate of his eyes, melted as he looks into your soul. Shedding any walls around his heart, baring himself of his discretions, his eyes are deeper than the galaxy. You swear you’ve never seen anything prettier in your life. You can feel your frigid heart thawing for the first time in years.

“Always.”

You never thought a single word could have so much meaning, a sense of security washed over you with Eddie’s promising word. A silent devotion from his eyes of keeping you safe and out of harm's way. You felt your soul open up to him. A higher power bringing you closer to him. You reach down and grab his hand. Rubbing the rough knuckles and tracing the rings on his fingers. An angel’s smile dances on Eddie’s lips. He decides right there, in that moment, that he would be whatever you needed. For as long as you needed him. Because he needed you.

///

///

SEE YOU IN VOLUME VI

a/n: hope you enjoyed this, it was a little rough but the next chapter is pure fluff 💋

[mt-oe]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮���𝐬 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐—modern mizu x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Thank you so much for appreciating my fics. I honestly didn't expect to receive requests for a part 2 and ya'll are making me melt aaaaaa <3

Link for the first part? Mwa!

I hope you'll enjoy this one too!

Enjoy, love! Mwa mwa :*

warnings: not proofread, smut (mdni!), very mild violence, alcohol, misgendering (bc mizu appears masculine), she/her for mizu and implied afab reader

I don't really know if she knows or not But I left some things in her jewelry box And she's wearing out my rings Taking the compliments meant for me

"Damn...I look like absolute shit."

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself after waking up from a post-cry nap. Your eyelids were very puffy and your lips chapped despite being slightly swollen. The eyes that were once filled with life were like empty pits, holding no emotion.

It had been a few days since you've retrieved your items from Mizu's apartment. Thankfully, your friend had a spare room in hers and allowed you to stay for a few months until you were ready to be on your own again. If it weren't for your friends, you'd probably have a hell of a time trying to recover from your break up.

Well, you were still struggling but at least it's a start.

That wasn't to say that the moving out process was any easier though. Seeing Mizu's frown when she opened the door made you want to pull her down and kiss her until the corners of her lips turned upward. But you couldn't, your relationship wasn't like before anymore.

Her eyes watched you as you carefully removed the trinkets you had placed on her shelf. The little neon characters and toy babies were now in a cardboard box as if the two of you didn't joke around about them being your 'babies'. Your clothes were already in separate box. The goofy t-shirts she had given you as a way to make you laugh were taped shut.

"Are you really going to take everything home?" she sighed out, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. The frown on her face never left and her eyes remained as aloof as ever.

You glanced at her briefly before turning your attention back to her shelf. Fingers running across the wood, past her jewelry box, trying to remember if you had left anything else. "Don't talk to me."

Mizu rolled her eyes at your cold response. It was understandable, but that doesn't mean it didn't annoy or hurt her in any way. She pushed herself off of the wall lightly before walking off to the kitchen. The feeling of you being this cold was not something she could bear at the moment.

As she left, your fingers traced back to her jewelry box and opened it. The earrings, rings, and necklaces you always wore were still there. Your throat tightened at the sight, remembering how you had bantered with Mizu for being so 'unfashionable'.

Before you, she had only worn plain silver bands around her fingers, saying that 'she didn't need anymore than that' and 'they're just rings, no need to be special'. But of course, you knew her long, slender, yet rough hands were too beautiful for the bare minimum.

It took a while to convince her, mainly because she secretly liked seeing you try so hard for her, but you finally got her to try out your rings. The feeling of having more accessories on her hand was odd to her and there were definitely times the accessories got snagged on her hair, clothes, and other things. However, the feeling of having a bit of you with her comforted her. It was adorable honestly. You even ended up leaving the rings she often borrowed from in her jewelry box.

And now, you were staring at the same rings placed snugly in the velvet-y confines of the jewelry box. A sigh escaped your lips as you took your earrings and necklaces back, but for some reason, you really couldn't bring yourself to take your rings back. A small tug in your heart felt that maybe she'd wear them and remember you.

"It is what it is," you mumbled, trudging back to your room. Your room looked like a shit storm. Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor, the trinkets you once displayed on Mizu's shelf were now scattered on random surfaces, and the books you bought but never read were...well they were still rotting on a random corner.

As you were about to lay down, your friend knocked on your door before opening it. The sight of you merely rotting in bed made her eyebrows furrow but it quickly disappeared as she walked in. "Want to drink somewhere?" She leaned sideways against the wall, cross her leg over the other.

You were about to refuse but the image of your exhausted self and the aching loneliness bothered your mind. Nodding at her, you stood up again. As if silently communicating with you, she gave you a relieved smile before leaving the room to give you some space to get ready.

Once the two of you had arrived to the club, you immediately sat down, waiting for your drinks to arrive. The music was blaring through the speakers and the smell of sweat, alcohol, and the mix of people's perfume lingered around. You were usually up for some partying but the ache of your heartbreak drained you this time around.

As your drinks arrived, you poured yourself a shot, not even bothering to wait for your friend. She was probably already dancing with someone somewhere. Your eyes scanned the crowd, people-watching as you downed the shot, the burn of the alcohol making you cough a bit.

Some how, it was peaceful for you despite the dancing, hollering, and even the strangers making out with who ever. Even your friend's return to the table, clearly having stolen a bottle of beer from another table, didn't bother you. Maybe you were finally attaining peace for the first time in a while. Maybe all you really needed was some alcohol to forget about Mi—

"Hey, isn't that Akemi?" Your friend asked, pointing at the sofa near the center.

What the fuck?

And although I think I'll miss them At least there's proof of my existence A captive little soldier on her fingers Deep behind enemy lines

You almost spit your second shot out, the alcohol almost traveling to your nose, making you retch over as you coughed in attempt to get the liquid back to your mouth again. Your watery eyes scanned over the crowd once again until you finally saw her. It really was Akemi. If she was here, Mizu was bound to be here too, right?

Panic with a bit of anticipation settled in you as your eyes tried to find your ex.

No. She wasn't here.

A sigh of disappointment escaped your lips upon sitting down.

Wait. Disappointment?

The hell?

"I-I'm going to dance for a moment," you told your friend. There was no way you're disappointed in Mizu's absence. You were going to find another way to move on.

As you made your way through the crowd, dancing and mingling with others while you sipped on your beer, a woman approached you and began flirting. The interaction made you feel awkward at first. A mix of panic, intoxication from the alcohol, and slight flattery was boiling inside you.

The woman flirting with you invited you to their table, to which you agreed. She introduced her friends to you, sharing drinks and stories. Some time later as you were interacting with them, she had slung an arm around you and pulled you close. It wasn't a touch that you were particularly comfortable with, but another shot with a Heineken as a chaser fixed that.

While you continued to interact with them, you noticed the lady's eyes staring at someone through the crowd. "His rings look expensive," she told you, pointing towards someone. Your eyes looked at where she was pointing at and widened.

Fuck it was Mizu.

And she was with someone else too. The woman she was with continued to play with the rings on her hand as they sat down, giggling and talking to her. They looked so happy and your ex looks like she had moved on. You continued to stare, not believing the sight, until your eyes met. You quickly sat back down, trying to calm yourself down.

Your vision was blurring either from the tears or from the alcohol or maybe both. The music ringing in your head as it continued to boom throughout the venue.

The lady you were with looked at you with concern before leaning closer to your ear. "Let's take this somewhere else," she whispered, giving you a smile. You nodded and stood up with her, making your way outside onto an alley beside the establishment.

I still have your lighter I still have your book I still have everything you brought, but you never took

The lady watched as you took out a cigarette, placing it between your lips before you began rummaging through your bag for a lighter. "You don't seem like the type to smoke," she joked in an attempt to ease your mood.

She was right. You weren't the type to smoke. In fact, you only started after your break up. The same night, you bought a carton of Marlboro Blue because you saw Mizu smoking it when she was still just your hallway crush. The image of her leaning against her motor bike, smoking while smiling lightly at the sight of her friends bantering was one that never left your mind.

"I learned from someone." You lit the cigarette with the lighter you had found in your purse before inspecting it. Your eyes widened as you realized that it was Mizu's lighter, making you choke on the smoke.

"It's him, right? The tall dude with the nice rings? The one with the blue eyes." The lady patted your back as you continued to cough, frowning when you nodded. She watched you smoke for a moment before moving closer towards you.

Your eyes looked...Bothered. Like you wanted to go back in there and thrash the table, to ask Mizu who the fuck she was with.

The turmoil in you continued to brew, rising and rising until it was almost overflowing. The image of Mizu with another woman burned into your memory. You wanted to storm in, to make a mess, to ask her how was she able to move on so fast while you...

You were still collecting the pieces of yourself that had fallen apart.

In midst of your thoughts, the woman you were with had grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you against the wall. "Let me teach you something better." She placed a chaste kiss on your lips before lifting your shirt, placing a trail of kisses from under your bra until she was kneeling down, face-to-face with the button of your jeans, looking up at you.

You sighed, a cloud of smoke escaping your lips before you took another puff from your cigarette. This felt wrong. The idea of hooking up with someone while you were still in love with your ex felt wrong.

"I...I can't do this.." You lightly grabbed her by the chin, moving your hips away from her. A look of confusion flashed on her face before she moved slightly closer. "Oh c'mon, just on–"

"She said back off," a voice cut her off.

You know where to find me And I know where to look

Before you could even utter a word, a ringed hand had pulled the woman away from you, prompting her to stand up. Deep blue eyes narrowed at her before roughly letting go of the woman's shirt.

"Now get lost."

The woman glared at Mizu, seemingly sizing her up for a fight. But Mizu was tall, well-built, and quite intimidating. Everything you wanted in a person, but clearly not someone you'd want to fight.

A 'tsk' left the woman's lips before she raised a middle finger, storming off. Mizu then turned to you, raising an eyebrow at the cigarette between your fingers. "I thought you didn't smoke?" she scoffed, eyes narrowing at you. " ...And blues? Really?"

You merely stared at her, unable to form a word. Maybe it was the alcohol or the nicotine making your brain lag but there was only one thing running through your mind: She was here. She was with you. She pushed a woman away from you. She was questioning why you were smoking. She..She..She...

Shit.

She was here. In front of you.

Mizu's eyes narrowed further at your lack of response. "What?" She moved closer to you, towering over you. The distance between the two of you was so small, it was like she was suffocating you against the wall.

"Why are you here?" you asked trying to keep yourself calm, breathing the smoke out through your nose. She glanced away for a moment, looking a bit guilty before turning back to you. "I...Akemi told me she saw you here."

Your eyes widened in surprise. You expected her to be with Akemi, but you didn't expect her to come just because Akemi told her you were here. "And that matters why?" you asked, eyes now narrowing.

She sighed and moved away a bit, more of the guilt appearing on her face. "I wanted to see you."

The beating of your heart increased as you looked at her. She wanted to see you? Why? You dropped the cigarette you were smoking before stepping on it, grinding the heel of your foot on it more than you needed before looking up at her. "You're joking," you said in a serious tone, looking intensely at her.

"I'm not I–" She was quickly cut off with you giving her a shove. "I saw you with that woman. I'm not stupid, Mizu."

She looked at you for a moment, clearly puzzled which made the rage in you boil much more. "The woman you were with. The one play with your rings. My rings." You clenched fist as you shoved her once more, glaring at her.

Your eyes started tearing up and you began smacking her arm, a mix of your emotions and alcohol making you lose all inhibitions. "You have no idea how much pain I've been in because of you! All I wanted was for you to be there for me and you fucking left me!" she yelled, your careless smacking progressively getting more forceful.

"Then, when I'm finally trying to find some fucking peace for myself, you waltz in with some woman and act all chummy chummy buddy buddy in front of me?! And now you expect me to fucking talk to you and welcome you back?! I'm not a fucking idiot, you motherfucking bi–" She cut you off by placing you in a loose headlock and shoving a hand over your mouth, glaring at you.

"You mean Kaji's daughter," she stated calmly, letting you go once you stopped thrashing around, clearly confused. "Oh for fuck's sake–Akemi's friend. She asked me to pick her up as payment for telling me where you are." she groaned, rubbing an annoyed hand across her face.

Oh.

You still glared at her before looking away, shoulders slumping. "Well why didn't you say so earlier?" you asked, frowning at her. She looked at you with mild annoyance, wanting to argue that you were too busy smacking the shit out of her arm, before suddenly chuckling. The annoyance melting into fondness and amusement, Damn, she missed you like this.

Her arms gently wrapped around you, pulling you closer as she buried her nose against your hair. "I miss you," she mumbled, closing her eyes. You couldn't help but freeze before finally softening up and sobbing, leaning closer to her. "Why'd you leave me?" you sobbed softly against her shoulder.

Her throat tightened at the sound of your crying and sniffling. Making you cry was the last thing ever wanted to do. "I was wrong. I thought we both needed a break from each other but I...I ended up missing you," she sighed out, holding you tighter. "I guess I took you for granted and I'm regretting it so much. I'll do anything to get you back." A hand wiped your tears away before lifting your chin up. "I'm sorry.."

You looked at her, gulping the lump in your throat. The apology was so silly to you. Mizu apologizing to you in such a horribly put together yet sincere way was not something you expected to see and it amused you. "Just kiss me, you fool." you giggled before pulling her head down and planting your lips together.

She kissed you back almost immediately, placing a hand behind your head and the other on the small of your back, pulling you closer than ever. It felt so good to be held like this again. To have Mizu in your arms and you in her's. The kiss deepened as your tongues explored each other's mouth before pulling away, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips.

Without another word, you knelt down in front of her, hands clumsily unzipping her pants. "W-Wait." She pushed your head back gently, covering the lower half of her face with her hand to cover her blush. "What's wrong?" you asked, looking up at her.

"I don't think I deserve to be treated like this right now especially after what–" You cut her off by continuing to undo her pants and pulling it down along with her panties slightly. Your nose buried itself against her bush, making both of you groan, her's slightly louder.

Using your thumb, you spread her folds open before sticking out your tongue and giving her cunt a long slow lick, relishing the moan that came from her. Despite being such a quiet person, Mizu really was loud when it came to intimacy.

The hand she previously used to push your head away was now gripping your hair, encouraging you but not pushing you. You began licking her clit slowly, drawing circles with the tip of your tongue and flicking it occasionally. Your other hand gathered the wetness that slowly dripping out of her, using it to coat your fingers before slowly pushing it in her hole.

Her grip on your hair tightened as her face scrunched up in pleasure, moaning loudly as she leaned back against the wall. You curled your fingers inside her, massaging that area you knew made her see stars. "Fuck, dove...y-you're so fucking good at this," she moaned out, bucking her hips closer to you.

You smiled against her cunt before giving her another long and slow lick, sucking the bundle of nerves towards the end. Your eyes looked up at her as your tongue began licking her clit faster. She was panting and moaning loudly, blue eyes half-lidded, and a dust of pink covering her cheeks.

"'m so close...holy shit," she moaned almost desperately, hand now pushing you closer. With her head tossed back slightly, she climaxed onto your fingers, letting our a loud choked back moan against the back of her hand.

She panted for a bit before looking at you as you pulled your fingers out slowly. You stared back at her, gazing into her blue eyes as you licked the cum off of your fingers slowly, sucking on it before releasing it with a wet pop. "Good girl..." she panted out before pushing herself off of the wall and pulling her pants up.

As soon as you stood up, she looked at you with a soft gaze before pulling you closer to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I guess...we're back together now?" you asked, intertwining your hand with hers, walking out of the alley together. "'m kinda glad you took me away from that woman earlier though," you laughed.

"Kinda feels like thievin' or stealing," you added. An amused grunt left Mizu's throat before she placed a short sweet kiss on your lips.

"Just felt like taking what's not mine," she mumbled against your lips.

That's thievin', stealin', takin' what's not yours

[okminer07]

Back with another story with no name Pt 1

This has been marinating in my head for a little bit, but I wasn't sure if I should write it. I ended up doing so to cure some writer's block. Let me know if you're interested and if I should continue it alongside my other stuff.

Jeremy's leg began to bounce nervously as he hung up the phone. He had decided; that today would be the day he'd ask her.  The question was, how the fuck was he supposed to do that?  If he hadn't been able to do it for the last three years, what made him think he could ask Lily out now?!

He sighed, getting up from the couch and heading to the kitchen. Several granola bar wrappers already littered the coffee table, but he really needed another one. Maybe it was his nerves making him so hungry? He had no idea. Opening the pantry, he fished out the box only to find it empty.  He groaned, shoving the box back on the shelf and closing the pantry door. Though he was still hungry, he didn't want to spend too much of his grandma's money while she was away, lest she think he was blowing it all and never leave him alone again.  It annoyed him slightly, that just now after turning seventeen she decided he was ready to be home alone for more than a night or two.

The house wasn't much different with her gone; still dark, still quiet, still always dusty. However, there was one thing to gain from her absence. She'd never let him have friends stay overnight. Well, now was his chance, and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

His nerves kicked right back into gear at the thought of having Lily actually spend the night. She'd come over before yes, but her agreeing to spend the night just made him feel like he had to make a move.  The thought made him nervous, but also giddy beyond belief. 

That feeling was dashed though when he looked in the full-length mirror across the hall by the front door. He frowned, the only thing he really had going for him was his decent build, but that seemed pointless when coupled with his height. Standing at 5'3", he felt like some dwarf out of Lord of the Rings or Dungeons & Dragons. There was also the fact that he just wasn't what most of the girls at school would call handsome. His plain brown hair sat like a messy mop on top of his head due to him always forgetting to get it cut and his bulbous nose made him look almost like an orc. 

He glared down at the ground, before marching right up to the mirror. If he was going to pull this off, he'd have to crank up the charisma. Clearing his throat, he looked his reflection right in the eye before smiling, "Hey Alice, glad you could come." No no, that made him sound like a pussy. He fixed his face up in a confident smirk, "How's it going Alice, you are looking damn fine today." He shot finger guns at the mirror only to slap himself in the face, "Stupid. That's stupid. No one does that."  

Jeremy sighed. Would he even be able to do this?  What if he screwed up so bad she left? or worse? He looked back up at his reflection, straightening and rolling his shoulders back, "Alice, there's something I've been wanting to tell you for some time now, I- Ach!"

Out of nowhere, pain bloomed from his chest. Burning, aching pain that pulsated in waves and began to spread out to his limbs. His legs gave out from under him.  Falling to his knees, he gritted his teeth, clenching his fists.

"W-wha- what the hell?!" he managed to squeeze out before he yelled out as the pain increased tenfold and a resounding snapping noise filled his ears. Vision blinded, Jeremy over onto his side, curled up in the fetal position as he clawed at the floorboards in agony.  He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All he could do was writhe on the floor while it felt like every bone and muscle in his body was being ripped apart.

It stopped. As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Jeremy gasped for air, sweat dripping from his face. W-what… What happened?  His hand came up to rub his forehead as he sat up.  He began to stand up.

"Ah!" his hands flew up to the top of his head, having hit something. He recoiled, hunching his back and finally opening his eyes.

He froze.

He was looking down at himself, seeing his cargo pants now resemble beige shorts that hugged his bottom half so tightly it was becoming uncomfortable. The red shirt he had been wearing now looked like a very short, cropped top. His heart began to race. He looked up only to have all the air in his body leave him.

The familiar open-planned kitchen and living room lay before him, looking the same as it always had except for one glaring detail. Everything seemed so much closer to the ground and even smaller. He was seeing everything from much higher up, he was higher up!

He raised his hands and looked up, gaping as he ran his fingers across the ceiling. The ceiling that had always been over eight feet high!

"H-holy- holy shit." he breathed, backing away. His skin erupted in goosebumps when he hit the nearest wall, "Holy shit!" 

Jeremy shoved himself away from the wall, falling to the floor with a loud thud. He whipped his head around every which way as he backpedaled further away. This isn't happening, this can't be happening!  His body began to tremble as he looked down at himself and then back at his surroundings. He was taller, bigger. He had grown!

"No, no!" he scrambled to his feet, crying out when his head smacked against the ceiling again. His hands came up and began grabbing and pulling bunches of his hair, "T-this is not happening!" he yelled to himself, "You're dreaming, this is just a dream!" 

He stumbled over to the kitchen and wrenched open one of the cabinets, yelping when the whole door was ripped off by his own hand. The door clattered to the floor as he hastily dropped it and hurried over to the sink. Bending down, he reached out his shaking fingers and turned the tap. He cupped his hands, gathering up the water before promptly splashing himself in the face. 

"Wake up, come on, wake up." When he opened his eyes, nothing had changed, "Come on wake up!" he cried, filling up his cupped hands again and splashing more water onto himself, "Wake up! Wake up!" when nothing changed, he began to slap his face, "Fucking wake up!"  he closed his eyes, praying that he'd be staring up at his bedroom ceiling when he opened them. Instead, he opened them to see the same scene before him.  

Moaning in exasperation, he slumped back onto the ground, the cups in the open cabinet clinking in response. How is this happening?! it can't be happening! this is impossible!  He held his head in his hands, his elbows resting upon his knees. The room stilled, the only sound that filled it was Jeremy's rapid and heavy breathing.

However, a minute or two later, a new sound rang out. Knocking. Someone knocking at the 

front door. 

Jeremy froze.

"Hello? Jeremy, are you there?" 

Crawling over to the front door on his hands and knees and not even having to get off them to reach the peephole, he peered outside. There she was, Lily. Still in her blue school blazer and a plaid skirt that was a bit big on her. As she turned her head, her curtain of black hair shimmered thanks to the setting sun.  

Jeremy felt his heart murmur at the sight of her before he began to fly into a panic. What the fuck was he supposed to do?! He couldn’t let her in, not when he was like this! Whatever this was. Seriously, people don’t just grow! People can’t! They can’t just suddenly double in size!  

“Jeremy?” Lily continued to knock. He leaned away from the door when she stood on the tips of her toes to try and peer through. 

“I uh…. I’m here.” he called, his voice shaking, “W-what are you doing here so early?” 

“Oh, I was just in the area when you called, grabbing a donut from Gusto Glaze. I got you something too” Jeremy felt a touch of warmth, hearing she had thought of him, “Are you going to let me in?” 

“Oh uh…. About that.” he feigned a cough, “I’m….. not feeling so good.” 

“Really? You seemed just fine at school.” 

He faked another cough, “Yeah well, it just kind of came out of nowhere.” he waited, praying she’d buy it. 

“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? Anything I can get you?”  

“No!” He cringed, the word coming out louder and harsher than he had meant, “No, no I’m alright. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to catch it” 

“Are you sure? I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone and sick.” 

He internally groaned. Of all the times for her to be nice and offer to keep him company, why did it have to be now? “I’m sure I’ll be fine. You don’t have to-” 

His voice was interrupted by a loud growling and gurgling sound coming from Jeremy’s middle. He winced, slapping a hand over his stomach which continued to rumble. 

“What was that?” 

“Uh, nothing.” he glared down, pressing down harder in an attempt to silence his own body. 

“Was that your stomach? Have you eaten at all today?” Lily’s voice was growing worried, and in any other circumstance, Jeremy would have been over the moon about it.  

“Of course, well not much.” that had been the wrong answer. 

“Well, you clearly haven’t had enough. You sound like you’re starving! Here, let me in so I can give you your donut and maybe make you something else.” 

The doorknob began the jiggle. Jeremy shot his hand out to hold it still, “You really don’t need to do that. I’m perfectly fine on my own!”  

“Then why did you let yourself get this hungry? Please, let me in and help.”  

He paused, thinking over her words. What if…… what if she could help? Help him with whatever the hell is going on. She had always been more academic than him. Maybe she’d at least have a figment of knowledge about whatever this was. He glanced down at his oversized body. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of her seeing him like this, but what choice did he have? If he wanted help, which he honestly did. 

“Uh, Lily” he started, “Look I’m….. I’m not sick, or at least not with the flu or anything like that. But….. but something’s wrong.”  

There was a pause before Lily responded, “What do you mean? What’s going on Jeremy?” 

He gulped, not sure how to tell her or even begin to describe what was going on, “I don’t really know. But…..” he shook his head, “Something is really wrong with me and I don’t know what to do about it.” 

“Well, let me in please so I could help you figure that out.”  

Jeremy ran a hand down his face, “Are you sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  

She has no idea what she’s in for. He slowly took his hand off of the doorknob, “If I let you in…. Promise you won’t scream?”  

Silence on the other side, then, “I promise.”  

He let out a shaky sigh, raising his hand and unlocking the door. He backed away, watching with bated breath as it was slowly pushed open. 

[truerhearts]

i love you - satoru gojo one shot

masterlist | ao3 | requests

gojo x fem!reader fluff

gojo realizes he's in love with you and plans on telling you

3rd person

1.7k words

100% fluff

Satoru was in love. There was no question of it he was very sure of his feelings. And he knew exactly when it happened, too.

It was about two weeks ago now. They had hung out all weekend doing absolutely nothing, and they both had an amazing time just passing the days together. He’d be playing games, she’d be studying. They’d watch a movie and cook together, and then they’d fall asleep in his bed, tangled in the sheets and in each others’ arms. He held her close despite the fact he was in an uncomfortable position, and she was also heating him like an oven. He didn’t care, he just loved the feeling of her being close. They’d laugh together, kiss a bit, then fall asleep. Pure bliss.

Sunday afternoon rolled around, and they regrettably parted ways. He let her keep his sweatshirt she’d been wearing all weekend. (It was one of his favourites, but he loved seeing her in it.) And of course, they already had plans to hang out again soon. 

It was the moment he closed his apartment door - the moment when his living space suddenly became a lot quieter, more empty - was when he noticed something. It was odd to be feeling this way because he’d lived alone since he moved out… it never felt this empty before.

Then everything started to make sense. 

He realized he was in love. 

He smiled to himself as he stared at the closed door. “Damn,” he whispered. 

But that was nearly two weeks ago now - and he hasn’t mentioned it to her yet. 

Tonight, he was taking her out on a date: dinner at a rather upscale restaurant. She thought it was too fancy for just a casual date, expressing it would be better if they had a reason to go, like a birthday or anniversary. But Satoru insisted.

“(y/n), don’t worry. Just wear something pretty and I’ll pick you up at 8.” 

She could hear him smiling through the phone. 

“Alright, if you’re sure.” She said smiling back, twirling a piece of her hair in her fingers.

“Of course I’m sure. I want to treat you tonight, is that so bad?” 

She giggled. “You’re too good to me,” 

“You deserve the world. I’ll see you later.”

They said they’re goodbyes and hung up. She was on her bed, phone on her chest, lying there wondering how she got so lucky. The sun was beginning to set as the evening rolled around. She was just applying the finishing touches to her makeup before examining herself in the mirror. She looked pretty, she thought. She put on a bit more makeup than usual, a nice evening look. And he’d dress was a short black slip she only brought out for nights like these. It was one of her favourites. 

She had just finished applying her lipstick when she heard a knock at her door. Her heart skipped a beat as she knew it was.

He was on the other side, using the slight reflection on the window to touch up his hair. He stopped once he heard the door unlock. 

The door opened, revealing his date for the evening. She looked absolutely stunning, and he couldn’t help but grin widely as he stared down at her. His eyes traced her from her head to her feet, soaking in every bit of her.

“You look beautiful.” he simply said, his crystalline blue eyes sparkling even more than usual, if that was possible.

Heat quickly rose to her cheeks as she shied away a bit. “Stop,” she giggled, she stepped aside to let him in.

He stepped inside, “No, really, I mean it. You look so beautiful.” he closed the door behind him, and he stood in front of her. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her lips. 

Her heart fluttered and butterflies filled her stomach. They had been seeing each other for almost four months but he still made her elated with his words. 

He pulled away shortly after. “Are you ready to go?” He asked. 

“Yes, I just need to grab my coat and purse.” She said as she quickly pulled her coat off the coatrack and grabbed her purse that was on a shelf by the door. 

He took her coat from her and held it for her while she put her arms in. (What a gentleman!)

He let her out first and he closed the door behind them.

The establishment was far more upscale than she was expecting. She had heard of it before, but never imagined what it would be like on the inside; it exuded an air of sophistication that seemed fit for royalty. They walked down the grand hallway to meet the hostess, the click of her heels echoing on the marble floor with every step. She felt his arm wrap around her waist, pulling her close as they approached the desk. 

-

Dinner came and went. They both had a lovely time and their waitress complimented them on being such a cute couple. He took care of the bill, not letting her see how much it cost. She imagined what it could have been and even though he insisted it was okay, she still felt uneasy about going somewhere so fancy. But she was grateful nonetheless. 

They were finally back at his place. The lights were dim, and it felt cozy in his little apartment. 

She was still wearing her dress, sitting on the couch waiting for him to bring her a cup of tea.

He walked back into the room with two mugs prepared. He handed her one before taking a seat beside her. 

“Thank you so much ‘Toru,” She expressed, savouring the warmth as the tea cascaded down her throat, leaving a comforting trail in its wake.

“Anytime, princess.” He initiated the ritual of television without a specific show in mind. “Do you want to sleep over again?” 

“Yes, I’d love to. Can I borrow some clothes?” she asked.

“Of course, but don’t change yet, this dress looks too good on you.” He sighed and relaxed himself, leaning back into the couch. He unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and took a sip from his own mug. They stared at the tv. Nothing significant was playing, it was just on the front page of Netflix. 

The ambiance suggested a different night, a shift in the air. Her instincts tingled, signaling a change in him—quieter, less exuberant.

As the quite expanded, discomfort settled in her bones. Attempting nonchalance, she ventured, "You seem a bit quieter tonight. Everything okay?"

He chuckled a bit. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m great actually. Better than I have been in a while.” he tapped his fingers on his mug. “You know it’s because of you, right?” He asked, his voice low and alluring. He turned his head towards her, his blue eyes peeking out from long white lashes.

Her eyes widened slightly, the conversation taking a turn she wasn’t expecting. She didn’t know if she heard him correctly. “Me?” she stammered.

He gently set his mug aside, the tv flickering in the background. “Yes, you.” His gaze moved back towards the tv for a moment as she soaked in his words. “Everything is just better when you’re around. And my apartment feels so empty whenever you leave.” He exuded confidence with every word he uttered. There was no hesitation; he was sure of his words. She was speechless but absorbed his sincerity; this was the first time he had been so open with her.

He met her eyes again. “I guess… what I’m trying to say is… I love you, (y/n).” A warm smile accompanied the words that dripped so easily off his lips, sweet like honey.

Her breath caught in her throat as she was still left speechless. Unable to form words to convey how she was feeling, she simply leaned in to kiss him.

It was unexpected, but he quickly obliged and leaned into her lips. He grabbed her mug and placed it on the coffee table before deepening the kiss further, his fingers quickly getting tangled in her hair. They parted for a moment as he felt her pulling away slightly.

She took in the sight of him: his messy white hair, his half-unbuttoned shirt, his rolled-up sleeves revealing toned forearms. He looked more attractive to her than usual, maybe it was because of what he said. Heat rushed to her face and chest, leaving her looking flushed. 

He looked a bit worried as she still hadn’t said anything withdrawing his hand from her hair.

“I…” She shied away. “Toru, you still make me so nervous,” she giggled, a bit embarrassed.

“Was it too soon?” He asked. She’d never seen him this worried before.

“No…” She bit her lip. “I… love you too.” She managed to utter.

He sighed with relief. “Jesus, (y/n).” He ran a hand through his hair. “You really know how to make a guy sweat.”  

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m shy.” She gave him a sheepish grin, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Inwardly, she chided herself for feeling self-conscious even after four months with him.

He gently cupped her face. “You’re so cute. This is why I love you.” He said it again. Those three words. She didn’t have time to reply as his lips were already on hers again. His hands found her body once more, one on the bare skin of her thigh, his fingertips just gracing the hem of her dress. And his other hand made its way to the nape of her neck, once more getting tangled in her hair. He appreciated every inch of her. She was so soft, so feminine.

They parted for a moment, and he met her eyes through heavy lids. “You don’t need to be shy around me, (y/n).” He purred.

He closed the space once again. She gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him in even closer. Her stomach was doing flips and somersaults. The emotions he stirred within her with his looks, and his actions, and his words, were as intense as they were first time they kissed. She swore he did it intentionally, knowing precisely what to say or do to make her heart race with delight.

This is Satoru Gojo… He knew exactly what he was doing.

[scuttling]

Frayed Ends

Fandom: Supernatural Pairings: Dean Winchester/Female Reader Word Count: 1,527 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Unprotected sex, Mentions of impending death Summary: It's the end of the world again; where better to find comfort than Dean Winchester's arms? A/N: Sometimes Dean's just too pretty to ignore.

Keep reading below or link to AO3!

Staring out the window of the battered old motel, looking into the darkening sky, you try to count the number of life-or-death situations you’ve been in in the last year. You’ve been mortally wounded in battle, only to be healed by angelic figures that don’t quite live up to expectations; possessed by demons who are surprisingly more forthcoming than their winged counterparts; ripped to shreds by creatures with claws and fangs, things that are both as terrifying as the stories say and so much more complicated than most people know. 

A loud crack of thunder booms, lightning splits the sky, and a warm hand presses firmly against the middle of your back. None of those things make you jump, not anymore.

“So,” Dean begins, reaching out to hand you a tumbler of whiskey—the good stuff, a high-dollar, top-shelf single malt. “Last night on Earth.” 

You take the glass from him and peer into into it, through the rich brown liquid, before sipping the liquor, letting it burn smoothly, slowly; it seems like an oxymoron, but precisely what you need now, in the eleventh hour, when it feels like the world is about to fall to ashes at your feet. Again.

“That line work for you often?” you ask, half-teasing, and you down the rest of the alcohol. A shrug of his shoulders and a cocked half-smile tells you all you need to know. "Right, of course. Apocalyptic situation plus a rugged, handsome man who did his very best to prevent our impending doom... I imagine it isn't ever hard for you to get laid, but it's gotta be damn near impossible to be turned down under conditions like these." 

He empties his own glass with a smack of his lips, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside you, and smiles gently. It’s different from his usual grin, because it changes the look of his eyes, touching only the corners and making it appear as though it would physically hurt him to keep it up much longer.

He’s not being a creep, hitting on you when you’re vulnerable—you know because you know him, have been traveling the road off and on with him and Sam and occasionally Cas for over a year now. This is about desperation, a vain attempt to cling to something as your doomsday clock ticks down to zero, to connect with another person one more time before you reach the proverbial end of the road.

"You tell me,” he finally says, voice as rough and broken as you’d expect. You look away from his face abruptly, this open, emotional version of the man you’ve been kicking ass and trading sarcastic quips with making your stomach turn. He’s a good guy, no doubt about that, and he doesn’t deserve the life he’s been saddled with, or all the pain and misery that comes with it. He lived for his family, Sam, and now they are apart—no more angel teleportation, no more gas stations, no more cell service—and the end is so near you can see it in the darkening swirl of his green eyes, the tightness of his jaw.  

Apparently the booze hasn’t slowed down your motor functions any, because you’re turning to press a hand to his chest before the thought has fully formed in your mind. 

"I'd be honored, Dean Winchester," you breathe, pushing a hand softly through his hair; he inhales, lips parted and eyes flicking curiously over your face, before leaning down for a careful, gentle kiss. 

Both of his arms wrap around you, embracing you warmly, and you slip your tongue into his mouth, giving yourself over to his strong arms and stubble without a second thought. It isn’t exactly a hardship, sleeping with the brave, honorable, beautiful hunter, and if it makes him feel even a fraction better about the whole dying bloody thing, how can you refuse? 

"Thank you." It’s a sandpaper whisper pressed lightly against your lips, and one of his hands moves to cradle your head as the kiss deepens. He tastes bittersweet, a blend of mint and whiskey, and is far more tender than you would have imagined, taking soft sips of your bottom lip between toe-curling, passionate kisses. You push the light-colored flannel off of his shoulders, pleased with the muted groan he expels against your neck, and wrap your arms around his back like you can’t get close enough, can’t get enough of him. 

He lifts you easily, of course, like you’re as weightless as you’re starting to feel, brings you to the bed and covers your body with his, hands ghosting over your throat and your face, down your arms, over your chest, your sides. The kisses grow rougher, needier, deeper on both your parts, and when you pull the soft, worn t-shirt over his head you press your fingertips into his skin, drag him closer, body begging for more. 

“Dean… yes,” you sigh as he nips at your neck, your earlobe, his teeth sharp but careful. You move your hands over his stomach, his chest, the back of his head, pulling him to your mouth for more slow, wet kisses like you’ll find the solution to all of your problems inside him—or maybe that you want him to find it inside you. It’s a heady, dizzy feeling, and he feels it too, moaning into the kiss when you shift up to your knees, pulling your own t-shirt over your head. 

“I need you,” he rasps, looking over your body, with all of its scars and bruises, like it’s a map of all the places you’ve been together. You unhook your bra, let it fall away, and then unbuckle his belt, help him strip down before removing the rest of your clothes too. 

You feel a flush of heat when you’re both bare, not nervousness or shyness, but something you don’t have a name for, not yet; you probably never will, now so close to the end, so you just bask in the feeling that he’s all yours, that in your last moments you will be as connected as two people can be. That even if you die in vain, you won’t be dying alone. 

You’d ask about protection right about now, but don’t see the point, considering the circumstances; instead, you climb into his lap and weave your fingers into his hair, kiss him so thoroughly he has to know you’re doing this because you want to and not just because he’d asked. Your nails graze over his shoulders, into his hair, murmur his name, and his soft lips become hard and unyielding as he kisses you breathless, like he wants it to mean something.

He lays you back against the bed, still made up from the day, and you let him, pulling your knees up so he can settle in close to you, so you can feel his body tense beneath your hands and he presses into you, fills you completely. “Fuck,” he grinds out, and his mouth finds yours again, his kisses softer, sweeter as he starts to move. 

For the first time, you’re glad it’s pretty much just the two of you left in this desolate town; neither of you are quiet as you fuck, gasping and moaning and whining puffs of breath into the air between you. The sounds of your sex echo in the room—the groan of the bed frame, the sticky wetness soaking your thighs, Dean’s mouth as it runs about your beauty and your pussy and how heavenly you feel. 

The room is so hot, your skin slick with sweat, his too, and he takes your hands in his and presses them up over your head, against the bed, holding you down with the force of his body as you both chase the feeling that you’re close to something big.

“Oh god, more, Dean, please,” you plead, hitching your legs up higher, tightening them around him as he thrusts quicker, deep and smooth. “You’re so good, so good, Dean.” 

“You have to come for me. You have–” He lifts one of his hands away from your pinned wrists and strokes your cheek with it, brushing his thumb over your lips. His eyes are lighter now, honeyed, but still flooded with emotion as he combines tenderness with roughness and brings you so close to climax you can feel it pulsing beneath your skin. “You’re glowing,” he chokes out before his orgasm rips through him, strong enough to make him shake above you, and he leans in for a kiss that turns into your own climax, something powerful that makes you ache down to your bones. 

You whimper against his shoulder as he slows, and he releases your arms, pulls them around him so you embrace as you pant through it together. You feel both completely spent and filled with buzzing energy, and when he looks down at you his expression is… awed. There’s no way to mistake that face for anything else. 

“Holy shit. I think that worked,” he says, almost astonished, and then his phone vibrates on the bedside table and you turn simultaneously to look over at the glowing screen.

Sam.

A/N: Didn't mean for this fic to mean anything or to lead to anything more, but it kind of did, so who knows?

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Moving in with Katsuki Bakugo

'Katsuki, where'd you leave my books?'

'Still in the car, maybe?' Your boyfriend of over a year supplied, popping his head out of the bathroom where he's busy re-organising everything to fit the both of you. 'Figured I'd wait for ya to finish gettin' your ass kicked by IKEA before I brought more crap in here.'

'It's not crap, it's literature you uncultured swine!' You jested, sticking your tongue out at him with a giggle. 'Besides, it didn't take me that long to build the thing!'

'Uh huh, sure.' He narrowed his eyes at the wood shelf now stood in his living room, empty beside his own hefty collection of books. He likes to read just as much as you do, there was no way he'd find room for your book collection without the extra storage space. 'Watch it fold like a house o' card as soon as you put a book on it.'

'Are you doubting me, babe?' You bunched up the packaging plastic in your hands for recycling, tucking it in the corner by the door. 'You're too cruel, Kats.'

'Whatever, just go get yer damn books, and take the trash out while you're at it!'

'Yessir Dynamight sir!'

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but welcomed the kiss you pressed to his lips before you left the now shared apartment.

As soon as you were gone, he paused, taking a look at the place. His apartment had always felt...big when he was alone in it, but whenever the squad came over, it felt tiny.

Now, with your rainbow throw pillow on his black leather sofa and that gimmicky flamingo LED lamp your friend bought you on the side table, it felt like just the right size.

He knew he wanted you to move in barely a month after you reconnected. It became a habit for you to meet him at his agency after work every day. You'd grab dinner, or cook at his place as yours was pretty out of the way.

He's still pissed that you were the one to admit your crush on him, granted you'd taken at least three shots of tequila to grow the courage, but still, he doubted any amount of drink would have given him the balls to do what you did.

Ever since then, Katsuki's been determined to be the best damned boyfriend you could ever want, and judging by the fact that you're now moving in with him, he's not been doing a bad job of it.

There are traces of you scattered all over the apartment now, picture frames of your time at UA, many of them decorated by your own hand. Looking at them reminds him of just how many memories the two of you share, how natural it is for you to be part of his life.

'Jesus Christ books are heavy!' You huffed, stumbling through the door with a box so big you couldn't see over it in your arms. 'Thank fuck for my bloody quirk.'

'Here, don't break the damn floorboards, dumbass.' He chuckled, taking the other side of the box and helping you set it down on the floor beside the shelf. 'I think we're gonna need a bigger shelf.'

'Aight, save the shark references for when Kiri's over.' You giggled, eagerly flipping the box open to inhale the smell of books. 'Oooh, we should so organize our books to be all aesthetic!'

'Who the hell's got time for that?!'

'Not us, I guess!' You giggled, pulling out your books to start stacking them away. 'I'll just organize them the way I always do.'

'Why the hell do you put the hardcovers on the top shelf? If they fall on your dumbass you'll get a concussion!'

'But if the paperbacks fall from that high they might get damaged!'

Katsuki rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Priorities, babe, priorities.'

You giggled, standing on your tip-toes to put a book on the top shelf and steal a kiss to his cheek. 'Love it when you call me babe.'

Katsuki flushed pink, averting his eyes from that adorable smile you flashed him, the same smile that could make his heart race. 'Whatever, dork.'

The two of you moved together through the apartment, he let you put on music and work to the sound of the playlist you'd made together.

By the time the sun went down, you're curled up on the sofa together, dishes drip-drying on the rack after Bakugo made a favourite of yours for dinner.

He's scrolling through Youtube on the TV with your head resting on his shoulder, fingers peacefully drumming against your waist while you drifted off.

It doesn't feel new, or exciting, it feels comforting, familiar, your weight nestled into his side like you belonged there. As far as Katsuki's concerned, that's exactly where he wants you to be.

[squidsandthings]

Kenji & Chuuya "You need to eat more vegetables, mister"

Taking this prompt from you and turning into our racer au.

Enjoy :D

(I cannot write dialogue well asdsjklgh)

"You need to eat more vegetables, mister!"

Kenji's voice rang out through the small apartment as one by one Kenji inspected each of Chuuya's cabinets, each barren shelf bringing a slight frown to the kid's face.

Chuuya was reeling trying to piece together exactly how he ended up being lectured by some kid he barely knew and how exactly that kid even ended up in his apartment in the first place. His tired mind tried to replay the events.

This week was a shitshow for Chuuya. His second week of teaching was far rougher than the first, and the ungraded assignments were starting to pile up alongside the empty bottles of wine. He didn't mean to get behind. Chuuya didn't didn’t like to leave messes in his work or personal life, but it certainly didn’t help that he kept getting distracted by a certain blonde math teacher whenever he tried to work. Every day he seemed to wake up with a worse migraine and another set of problems to fix.. And to top it all off his "side hustle" hadn’t been nearly as profitable as usual. His neglected bike sitting unused continued to make his heart twist, but he was tired, and it seemed this week he couldn’t seem to catch a break, it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t keep up. 

All this to say he didn’t exactly have the energy to argue when he was woken up at 6 in the morning (on a weekend for some god forsaken reason) by a persistent knocking at his apartment door. He answered half-asleep and fully unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

A mop of dusty yellow hair and a matching straw hat. Patchy blue overalls which highlighted sparkling bright blue eyes that stared up at them. To top it all off a smile which rivaled the damn sun nearly rendered his groggy mind comatose. He buffered trying to recognize the sunny kid in front of him, in the meantime he vaguely registered that the person in his doorway was now talking to him.

After a moment his brain clicked into recognition, right, this was the kid who ran the farmer's market stand he bought from each week. What was his name again? The farmer boy in front of him just kept talking until Chuuya's mind finally snapped everything into place.

Oh right, Kenji.

By the time he put that all together he just barely caught the end of Kenji's words.

“-which is why I figured I’d stop by and give you these!”

Chuuya blinked as Kenji stopped talking and gestured to a pair of large brown bags overflowing with produce he didn’t have time to object to before Kenji walked right into his apartment setting the bags on Chuuya’s counter as the kid started to…put away groceries for him? What was this kid's deal? Chuuya sighed and closed the door looking over at the kid, Kenji.

“Wait back up, why are you here, how did you get here, and why, exactly, are you going through my kitchen right now?” Chuuya tried to make sense of the whole situation.

Kenji looked back at Chuuya tilting his blonde head slightly.

“Oh did you not catch it? Sorry, I must have gotten excited. My grandmother always says I need to be careful not to get too excited when I talk but I just got excited to see you’re alive and somewhat okay Mister Nakahara!” “Just Chuuya is fine kid,”' “Oh okay! Well Mister Chuuya. I noticed you hadn’t stopped by this week at all, which was weird, and I got worried because what if you were sick and you couldn’t have good food to make you feel better, my grandma always says fresh food is the best medicine, so I figured I’d bring you your usual orders and also make sure you were okay,"

Kenji took a deep inhale before continuing to speak, Chuuya wondered how the kid could possibly have that much energy to talk this early.

“By the looks of it, you are alive but you don’t look okay and my grandma says to always help people when they need it, so obviously I can’t let you unpack all your own food, but looking in your cabinets here maybe I should have brought more? It’s awfully barren. You really need to eat more vegetables, Mister Chuuya,”

Kenji’s words only left Chuuya with more questions but he quickly realized the kid meant no harm he was just a bit…over enthusiastic.

Chuuya sighed and sat at the kitchen table near where Kenji was currently stocking his fridge with more eggs than Chuuya thinks he’s had in his apartment in his life. 

“So you got worried because I didn’t show up at the farmers market so you somehow tracked down my address just to give me groceries and now you’re stocking my fridge because you think I look like shit?” “Yep!”

Kenji's reply was as chipper as Chuuya expected and caused Chuuya to let out a snort. Kenji continued to hum  as he finished packing away all the produce. Once he finished he turned to stare at Chuuya with the widest, brightest, smile Chuuya had seen. This whole situation was so absurd, and yet, Chuuya’s headache hadn’t bothered him nearly as much while he was trying to figure out why there was a sunshiny 14 year old in his kitchen. He looked Kenji up and down once before joining the kid in the kitchen. Chuuya wasn’t even surprised as he found laughter escaping from his lips as he thought the situation over.

“Well, I’ll give you this kid, you’re very honest.”

Chuuya pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down something on it before holding it out to Kenji.

“Here’s my number, next time, just call me instead of breaking into my apartment at 6 in the damn morning” “I don’t use the family phone very often, but for Mister Chuuya, I’ll figure it out! I always like trying new city folk things,”

Chuuya just chuckled, the kid was strange, but, Chuuya couldn’t help but be endeared by his sunny disposition.

“Right, well, since you're here, and you’ve given me more food than I can probably eat in a month, do you want some breakfast? I make a pretty good omelet,”

Kenji thought about it for a moment.

“Well, usually I only eat after I do all my chores for the day, grandma always says I do my best work on an empty stomach…”

 The hesitation that crossed Kenji’s face made Chuuya’s heart twist as suddenly it became his mission to give this kid a good meal. He knew that kind of hesitation well. Wanting to do the best you can so the people around you are happy and taken care of even at your own expense. He tried not to think of the sheep bracelet still in his nightstand.

“Hey, well, you did a really good thing today by bringing me these groceries, my week has been a mess and I’ll admit your little delivery made it a lot more bearable. So consider my repayment for what you did for me this breakfast. It’s like my gift back to you.”

Kenji blinked, seemingly considering Chuuya's words.

“Grandma always said it’s rude to refuse a gift…”

The blonde boy burst into a familiar beaming smile

“Okay Mister Chuuya, I’ll stay for breakfast!”

Chuuya smiled.. Maybe this week wasn’t so bad after all.

[itsscromp]

Welcome to HELL-A

Time for another experiment, Dead island has been taking over me for a while and Ryan has interested me as a character. Note: Loosely inspired by character.ai. Warning: Intense violence and gore. Word count:2.2K

Los Angeles was now the biggest shit show you had ever seen in your life, With the infection now spreading city-wide, you were unfortunate to miss the evacuation flight. You were sadly left to fight on your own as the infected mauled your grandparents to death... What was once a simple vacation with them has turned into a fucking nightmare.

You were wandering the streets of HELL-A as what people are calling it now to find some food, Most of the supermarkets have been wiped clean, but thankfully you saw a convenience store that managed to be fully stocked. So sneaking in, you began to stock up your backpack. But in the midst of doing so, you then began to hear heavy footsteps as the person entered the store also. You grabbed your weapon and hid yourself. Looking between the shelves, you saw a man, he was wearing a fire fighter's uniform. But with people fighting for survival, You were given little choice but to leave. As you snuck around, you accidentally kicked an empty soda can, making it cling across the floor. The man was now on high alert.

"Hey !! Who's there ?? Come out !!" He gripped his sledgehammer tight.

You froze in place, holding your breath in tight. You could hear the footsteps increase as he got closer and closer. "I know you're there, Just come out." He continued to walk around the store until he then saw your face in between the shelves. "I see you back there"

You were now in fight or flight mode, You pushed the shelf onto the man and tried to run. He got pushed down against the shelf before pushing it off and held his sledgehammer over his chest preparing to swing. "You ain't getting away that easily" He swung the hammer at you.

"Woah woah, Easy easy... Friendly..." You raised your hands in surrender.

The man held his hammer up, pointing to you. "And how can I be sure ???"

"Uh... I have a brain... ??"

He looked over at you. "I mean... How do I know that you're not a zombie pretending to be a human ??"

You gave him a "Are you stupid ??" Look, this guy has clearly watched too many movies.

He lowered his sledgehammer finally a little bit. "Alright... You're acting like a human, I guess I'm gonna assume you're one" He put the sledgehammer over his shoulder. "What's your name kid ??"

"Y/n, You ??"

"Ryan... So what are you doing out here ??" He looked at you with a relaxed look.

"I was looking for food"

"Oh... so you've been surviving by yourself ??"

You nodded, putting your weapon away.

"Must be pretty lonely out here eh ??"

"A little yeah"

"How long have you been surviving out here by yourself ??"

"About a week now ??" You lost count of when the outbreak started, everything had gone so fast.

"Dang, you've got some guts kid, I'm about the same as you and it's been fucking hell"

"I guess, maybe stick with me ??"

"Hmm... Well... Yeah why not, I need someone to survive with anyways, especially with those damn zombies roaming the streets."

"Speaking of which, It's getting dark, they'll become more active and aggressive, we should find some shelter." You looked out the window, finding the sun setting.

"Yeah.. your right, You got any place in mind or should I take the lead ??" He looked at you.

You then pulled out a tourist map of LA pre-outbreak. "If we take this road up here and then continue on, we should be able to make it to Beverly hills."

"Why are we heading there ??"

"Because one, all the rich people have likely evacuated, and two the houses will be empty" You smirked and folded the map.

"You're right, so it's basically free shelter now, alright let's go !!"

The two began to walk out into the street, finding the road and now on their way to Beverly Hills. The two now getting to know each other.

"So your... a fire fighter ??" You looked at his uniform up and down before finding the helmet. On the front you noticed something a little different, trying not to laugh at it.

"Yeah.... Why ??" He looked at you confused, but really... Please don't say it, Please don't say it.

"Ok, first off, You're not a fire fighter, cause if you were your helmet should say the state dept, not the sexy dept" You began to snicker.

"What ?? W-wait how did you know that ??" He tries to hide the helmet and immediately turns a little red on his face.

"You're a male stripper ??" You tried not to laugh so loud.

He put his hand on the side of his face, hiding his embarrassment. "Well... yeah..."

You regained your composure again before being serious and playfully nudging him. "Hey, no judgment, serious" You smiled reassuringly.

He sighs "Ok... Fine you got me, I'm a stripper, And I was using the uniform to get onto that flight... But now I'm stuck here... I can't even deny that I do look attractive in it though" Making you both chuckle.

The two then eventually made it to Beverly Hills and found themselves in front of a mansion, Y/n then pulled out a bobby pin and began to pick the lock. "You must be really popular with the ladies"

"I mean... Yeah I am, I get paid good money just for dancing and stripping, it's a pretty embarrassing job, I have to admit" He shrugged.

"Why would it be embarrassing ??" You continued to pick the lock.

"I mean... I get paid to just take off my clothes and dance in front of strangers. People are bound to make fun of me since it's a pretty weird job" He paused for a brief second. "But you know... money is money"

"You gotta do what you gotta do"

"True that... I'm curious though... what was your occupation ??"

"Retail clerk" you shrugged

"Did you like your job ?? He looked at you "Because I used to work retail and it's the most annoying job ever... I don't miss it one bit !! Especially with those customers... They were brutal sometimes"

"Oh tell me about it !!, God specially those people who always are so perfect and everything had to be perfect for them" You grumbled

"Yeah... And especially out here in LA, Most of the people out here are rich and entitled. They just don't know how to act towards other people sometimes. And I had to work once during Black Friday. Worst day of my life" He shuddered

You managed to get the door unlocked "Got it"

"Dang, you're quick" They walked through the door. "So did you always live in LA or did you move out here ??"

"I was on vacation with my grandparents, Just before the outbreak..."

"Oh man... you got caught in the middle of this ?? That sucks..." He looked at you sympathetically before then looking around the house. "So now what ?? This place is fairly big, There's probably a lot of stuff inside"

"Yeah, Make this out little base or something" You smiled a little

"Yeah, that would be perfect... Although I hope no zombies have made their way in there already." He says as he walks around looking at the different rooms, he sees a stairway that went upstairs. "There's probably even more rooms upstairs" Motioning you to follow along.

The two then went upstairs, finding 5 more rooms, shit this place was really big. "Who freaking owns this house ??" You inspected one of the rooms and found a massive gaming setup and cameras too. "A streamer ??"

"Yeah... It seems like it too, Hell I'm sure they wouldn't mind if we use some of there their stuff" He smiled having a look.

"Big time, but we should check if the power is still operational" You stood up.

"Yeah, good call" The two then walked around the house to find the circuit breaker, Ryan then found more gaming consoles in the living room "Woah !! This guy is loaded !! look at this whole setup he has !! How much do you think he spent on this whole gaming thing ??"

"Focus on the power Ryan" You chuckled

He realized he got distracted as he heard you call out his name, he stopped admiring the set up and walked to your voice. "Huh ?? What'd you say ??"

"We're finding the power breaker" You snickered.

"Oh right right" He chuckles a little

The two continued to look around the massive house until finally finding the circuit breaker in the garage and switched it on, The house coming to life.

"Alright the power is on !!" Ryan clapped and rubbed his hands, he could hear the stuff beginning to run up the top. "Now that's figured out, we can go search the whole place for food and other stuff"

"Yeah we sho.. Oh hello there !!" You turned around and then found the owner's cars. "6 fucking cars !!"

Ryan then noticed and his eyes went wide. "Holy hell !!, Look how fancy they are !!"

"Lambo's, Mclaren's, you name it" You walked over and inspected one of the cars, You two picked the best freaking place to hide out.

Ryan admired his reflection quickly in the window "This guy must have been super rich... Or has a ton of debt"

But the happiness was short-lived, some of the noises from outside the house attracted the infected to the house door, You and Ryan heard all the familiar groans.

"Did you hear that ??" Ryan was immediately on high alert as were you.

"Yeah, Follow my lead" You pulled out your weapon and headed upstairs, Ryan closely following you. Once they reach the top, they can see at the entrance windows, the infected outside were banging on the door, trying desperately to get in.

"Something must've attracted them" You looked out.

"Yeah... Damn this isn't good"

You looked around and then saw a display weapon, Smirking. "I got an idea" You then went over and smashed the glass of the display weapon, flicking your thumb against the blade, yep super sharp. "Get the door would you ??"

"Thinking what I'm thinking ??" He then went to the door, readying himself with the handle. "On 3 ??"

"One... Two... Three !!"

Ryan then flung the door open and then swung at the first zombie he laid his eyes on. You do the same, the pure carnage ensues as the two of you start to get covered in blood and gunk. The innards of the infected spilled out onto the pavement as you hacked and slashed your way through them.

"Got a good swing on you bud !!" You said as you chopped a zombie's head in half.

"Thanks" He continued to swing though more of the infected. "You doin' alright ??"

"Managing !!"

The two continued to slash your way through the infected until there was none left, you breathed a sigh of relief for a little bit until you jumped, feeling a zombie's hand on your ankle. Ryan pushing you out of the way, stomping his boot on its head, smashing it open like a ripe watermelon.

After gathering himself for a bit, he turned to you and smiled. "I'm kinda impressed, where did you learn those skills ??"

"Video games" You nonchalantly said.

"That's it ??" He chuckled as you shrugged

"Guess you can learn a lot from video games then"

"Yeah... But now I need a shower" You flicked the blood off your hands.

"Yeah, That's probably a good idea"

So the two headed back inside and barricaded the door, heading for the first shower, Finding some of the owner's spare clothes, this would do for a while until you and Ryan could head back out and try and find something in your size. After you finished your shower, Ryan took his turn and came back out later, shirtless, letting you see his physique. "Wow the ladies reeeeeeaaaaaalllllyyyy love you" You chuckled.

"Yeah well, it's a part of the job, The ladies seem to have a thing for muscle" He bounced his pecs as a statement. "Maybe I could show you a few of my routines" He snickered before making you both lose it.

"You know Ryan, you're a good guy" You said now serious.

"Thanks, man... I appreciate it, you're a good person too, I haven't met anyone as nice as you since shit went south. I feel everyone out there is so... self-centred, but you're not, it's just nice seeing someone who's actually kind... If that makes sense" He chuckled

"Yeah, It's refreshing"

"Yeah, It's comforting... It helps knowing someone with you who won't judge you for what you do or stuff like that... It feels safe... I feel safe"

You smiled wide, raising a fist. "This is gonna be a good friendship, I know it"

"Yeah, I believe it too, this will definitely be good" He gladly returned a fist bump.

Whatever HELL-A throws at you both, you knew that you two would have each other's backs.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Wait For Me

Summary: Dean wants to blow off a bit of steam on his own, so he leaves Sam to his research and hits up the local watering hole. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: one night stand, bar hookup, semi-public sex,  attentive lover, mutual comfort, touch starved, volume control, dirty talk, praise kink, orgasm control, teensy bit of breath play Word Count: 4,030

Commissioned by: @pink-sparkly-witch

Bingo Square: @j3bingo - “You better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.” / @anyfandomkinkbingo - Beggin’ for Thread, Banks

“Don’t wait up,” Dean waves at Sam absentmindedly as he shuts Baby’s door behind him, slapping her on the hood in farewell as he heads into the bar while his brother is still rifling around in the trunk of the car, looking for the library books he needs to return. They’ve been on the road for a few days now and Dean has been feeling a bit too cooped up with Sam the past few nights. Stopping over in this town to look into a case had been more of a whim so they could stretch their legs, and after a day of fake fed interviews and local library research this wasn’t looking like their kind of thing after all, but Dean would be damned if he was just gonna pack up and drive another ten hours with nothing but Sam’s weird serial killer podcasts to keep his mind occupied. 

He pushes into the dive bar he’s picked out and breathes in deeply, his frayed nerves immediately settling as his lungs filled with the familiar scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke. He’d never been hooked on smokes, but the smell always takes Dean back to the rebellious excitement of his high school days when he’d been too bored to stay in class and too concerned with looking cool, spending hours under rusty bleachers lighting up with the local stoners and ne’er-do-wells. 

Eyeing up a stool that has a healthy amount of empty seats on either side of it, Dean sidles up to the bar and signals to the server, who flashes him a friendly smile as she finishes pulling a pint for another customer. Dean shucks his jacket and tosses it on the seat beside him, getting comfortable as he eyes up the available liquor and debates just how quickly he wants to make himself forget why he’s drinking in the first place. It’s not like he’s got any specific baggage he’s looking to shed, just the standard supernatural crap that they wade through on a weekly basis and the persistent sound of his little brother’s bossy voice in his head telling him he needs to loosen up a bit. Well, Sammy, wish granted, Dean muses as he decides he’ll dive right in with the whiskey and skip the beer altogether tonight. 

“What can I get ‘ya, handsome?” the bartender interrupts his thoughts and Dean switches his gaze to inspecting her instead of the whiskey. She has warm, welcoming eyes and a wide smile that feel flirtatious on the surface but Dean’s been in enough bars and hit on enough bartenders to recognise the distance behind her expression. He knows the difference between flirting for tips and flirting for a quickie on their shift break, but Dean’s happy to accept the friendly attention nonetheless. 

“Whiskey, rocks on the side–” Dean clears his throat and pulls on his most disarming grin, “–and your name, gorgeous?” 

“Any particular label?” She gives him a wry smile as she reaches for two glasses, dipping one into the ice cooler and setting it on a napkin in front of him.

“Dealer’s choice,” he shrugs, popping an ice cube into his mouth while he waits. “But I will be judging your taste behind your back, just FYI,” Dean chuckles as she turns towards the liquor shelf, giving her ass an appreciative once over while he has the chance to do so unobtrusively. He’s not disappointed with the view, but in his distraction, he misses which bottle she selects to pour from. 

“Getcha anything else?” the bartender smiles as she slips his drink onto another napkin in front of him. 

“Still waitin’ on that name,” Dean raises a brow hopefully but tries to keep his expression neutral and non-lecherous. He doesn’t want to come across as a dickbag. “I’m Dean,” he offers when she keeps her silence for a beat longer.

“Well, Dean,” she leans forward seductively over the bar and Dean has to make a concerted effort not to look down her top at the very nice pair of tits she’s displaying to him. “I don’t usually give my name out before you’ve had enough drinks that I know you’ll forget it in the morning,” she winks, her tongue tucked mischievously between her teeth as she smirks at him. Quick to take the bait, because it now seems like she’s graduated from tip-flirting to actual-flirting, Dean picks up his whiskey and knocks back the double shot in one go, letting the empty glass thunk down onto the bartop and then sliding it back towards her.

“I’ll take another.” 

Your eyes flick back over your shoulder for the millionth time since he’d arrived at the bar. Dean. Once again, his golden-green eyes meet yours over the rim of his whiskey glass, his brow furrowed deeply in concentration as he studies you, and you feel a flush burning hotly across your cheeks before you duck your gaze and turn away again. He’s been flirting with you all night, and you’ve been indulging him more than you normally would with most new customers. Typically you only flirted back with your regulars to keep them coming and keep the tips high. You wish that Dean would become one of those regulars, but he’d told you he was just passing through; road trip with his little brother, he needed a night to himself for once, he’d said. You wonder if he would object to alternative company… 

The way he was still staring at you so openly suggests that he might be up for it, and god knows you could use a one night stand. Your last boyfriend had been so selfish in bed, hardly ever bothering to make sure you were enjoying yourself as long as he was getting his rocks off. You have a feeling that Dean would be much more…generous. You can’t say why, but the way he carries himself, the way he keeps his eyes on your face when you’re talking and seems to actually pay attention to what you’re saying, even if it’s inconsequential small talk–you just have a good feeling about him. You aren’t looking for a relationship by any means, the last one was still too fresh a wound, but you wouldn’t say no to a decent fuck for once. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean calls from down the bar, and you turn to see him smirking at you with his empty glass raised, indicating he’d like another refill. Typically you would object to strangers calling you sweetheart but you still haven’t given Dean your name, so you suppose he has to call you something. And the way the word sounds in his mouth shoots shivers over your skin. It rumbles out of his chest, sitting low in his register and balancing on the back of his tongue, which flicks out to wet his lips as he keeps his gaze trained on you while you walk towards him to freshen his drink. 

You grab the whiskey and pour him another double, setting down the now considerably lighter bottle and turning around to add it to his tab. 

“You can go ahead and cash me out,” Dean says from behind you, and your head snaps around to look at him embarrassingly quickly. 

“You sure?” Your voice sounds pathetic even to your ears. You don’t want him to go, not yet. Your shift isn’t over for another two hours, and you’d hoped… stupid, you berate yourself. Gorgeous men don’t just drop out of the sky to fuck you and then disappear, you should have known better than to hope. 

“Yeah, I know my limits,” Dean chuckles, swirling the amber liquor around his glass and dropping a single shard of ice into it to open up the nose. You can smell the smoky caramel scent wafting towards you as the ice melts. “I want to be able to walk outta here on my own two feet, callin’ Sam to get me defeats the purpose of a night to myself,” he smiles at you with mirth lighting up his eyes, and you’re once again struck by how mesmerizingly gorgeous this man is as you slide him his bill across the counter. He barely glances at the total before grabbing a wad of cash out of his pocket and flipping down a handful of twenties that more than cover the tab. 

“Are you always this bad at math, or is that because of the drinks?” You giggle as you pick up enough cash for the bill and turn to put it in the register and retrieve his change. 

“Are we not supposed to tip our bartenders anymore?” Dean cocks his head curiously, eyes sweeping up and down your figure as a smirk spreads languorously over his full, whiskey-pinked lips. 

Raising a challenging brow at him, you look pointedly at the nearly two hundred dollars still sitting on the bar–the amount of his total all over again–and you carefully pull two twenty dollar bills from the haphazard pile, tucking the bills into your apron pocket. “That’s my twenty percent tip, put the rest back in your pocket before Sam finds me in the morning and has me arrested for robbery.” You let your lips turn up in a smirk as you give Dean your best authoritative stare, which probably neutralizes the effect a bit too much because he shakes his head in amusement, downs the rest of his whiskey, and sets the heavy-bottomed glass on top of the cash with the finality of someone who is used to getting his way. 

“My math is fine, sweetheart,” he insists, picking himself up from his barstool and leaning across the counter, close enough that you can clearly smell the whiskey on his breath when he speaks. “And the rest of me is still working just fine, too, if you follow,” Dean’s eyes narrow seductively. 

You’re instantly outraged, realizing that he’s hoping the big tip will sway you to sleep with him. Even though you’ve been hoping to do just that, being offered money for it makes you feel disgusting. 

“I’m not a prostitute,” you hiss angrily, turning away to leave Dean and check in with your other customers, but a strong hand shoots out and grabs your wrist holding you back. His fingers are long enough to wrap entirely around your arm and still overlap on the other side, and the feel of his skin on yours makes you freeze, your heart speeding up in your chest.

“I wasn’t sayin’ you are,” Dean assures you seriously. “The tip is for your excellent taste in whiskey and the good service.” He pauses, waiting for your eyes to meet his, and you swallow heavily when they do as the heat of his gaze seems to bore straight into your bones and warm you from the inside out. “I don’t pay cash for the other thing, more into a quid pro quo arrangement.” 

Slightly puzzled, your head tilts to the side as you consider his words until their meaning hits you. Orgasms. That’s how he pays for sex, making sure it’s reciprocal.

“My shift isn’t over until midnight,” you mumble lamely. It’s all you can think to say, your throat suddenly tight and your tongue dry.

“I haven’t seen you take a single break all night,” Dean counters with a quirk in his brow, lips pursed. You feel your mouth open and close as you search for a flirty answer, something that won’t make Dean think you’re a complete idiot, or worse–a complete prude. You’re not. You like sex. You want to have sex with him. You’re just having a bit of trouble functioning right now because he’s staring at you in a way that makes you feel like your stomach is melting out of your body. 

Dean releases his grip on your arm and the skin where his fingers were wrapped around you suddenly feels ice cold without his touch. “I’m gonna go find the restroom,” he clears his throat and gives you a meaningful look. “Seems to me even bartenders should be allowed bathroom breaks.” 

“I…” your mouth continues to cockblock you as you can’t think of any words to respond with. You see Dean’s face drop and his mouth draw tight in defeat. He raps his knuckles against the bar in farewell and turns towards the back of the bar in the direction of the restrooms–obviously actually planning to use them before he leaves. As he takes a few steps away, the prospect of letting him slip through your fingers like this spurs you to speak. “Dean!” you call after him, and he turns hopefully, but just as he does someone else calls for your attention from the other end of the bar. Caught between the two men looking at you, your glance back at the customer, then towards Dean again. 

“Wait for me?” you say to Dean pleadingly, glancing over your shoulder towards the man calling for you again, and you see a sly smile spread over Dean’s face as he nods and then spins on his heel and heads to the bathroom. 

You serve the new customers and check in with the other couple of people scattered around the bar to see if anyone needs anything before you slip away. Looking to one of your regulars–Kyle–you ask him to make sure no one burns down the place while you go around back to get some fresh bottles of liquor, and he agrees amiably with an entirely unsuspecting smile. You thank him and scurry away, hoping that the ten minutes or so you’d left Dean to wait wasn’t long enough for him to change his mind. 

As soon as Y/N–that’s what Dean had heard someone at the bar calling her, and he tells himself it’s not that creepy that he was paying attention, it’s perfectly natural considering his line of work that he likes to be aware of his surroundings–gingerly opens the door to the men’s restroom, Dean pulls her inside and slams the door behind her, pushing her body against it as he presses in the button of the lock. There’s no talking, there’s no need, he just dips his head down and kisses her, his hand coming up to the nape of her neck and tangling her hair between his fingers as his other hand settles rather chastely on her hip. Y/N’s arms wind themselves eagerly around his shoulders, pulling him even closer, and Dean takes the hint and presses the bartender into the door with the entire length of his body, his hips grinding against her and probably giving away the fact that he’s already got a semi hiding in his jeans. 

Pulling her lower lip between his teeth, Dean bites down experimentally and is pleased when she rewards him with a groan of excitement. Y/N’s chest heaves against his, crushing her tits against him, and at the reminder of their existence, Dean drops one hand to cup around the swell of one of her breasts, kneading it appreciatively beneath expert fingers. When Y/N arches into his touch encouragingly, Dean brings his second hand up under her shirt, pulling down the cups of her bra so he can play with her nipples while he sucks her tongue between his lips. There’s a muffled groan, and Dean realizes after a moment that it’s coming from him–a desperate effort to restrain himself from simply dry humping this girl to his climax. He’s established her willingness at this point, it’s time to move on to why they’re both really here. 

Sliding his hands around her waist and down the soft skin of her back, Dean bends at the knee to hook his large hands around the backs of her thighs and hoists her into his arms, whirling them around so he can set her down on the edge of the counter holding the sink. Y/N emits a squeal of surprise at the move, and as soon as he’s got her safely settled, Dean claps a hand across her mouth and makes a shushing sound, holding a finger to his lips. 

“You better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught,” he whispers heatedly, and his voice sounds rougher than usual to his own ears. “Can you be nice and quiet for me, sweetheart?” 

Y/N nods quickly, her lips pressed together in the universal expression of promised silence, and Dean grins at her, trying to hide his anticipation behind a veil of charm and seduction when he remembers to. 

“I know you’re gonna be a good girl for me,” Dean leans in to whisper against the woman’s ear, letting his breath ghost over her skin as he drags his lips teasingly down the column of her throat. Lower down, his hands are undoing the button and zipper on her jeans and helping her lift up so she can wiggle the tight denim down her thighs. He skims his fingertips between her legs and finds the damp fabric he was hoping to, pulling back to watch Y/N’s face as he begins to touch her. “I can feel how good you’re being for me already,” Dean smirks, rubbing the whole length of his hand across the crotch of her panties, using the fabric to add to the friction on her clit. Y/N’s head drops back against the mirror behind her and her eyes slide closed, her bottom lip sucked into her mouth as she tries to hold in whatever sounds she’s desperately wanting to make in response to the sensations Dean is drawing out of her. 

When he slides her panties to the side and slips a finger inside her for the first time, Y/N’s composure breaks and she swears loudly. “Fuck, Dean,” she groans, her hips thrusting back against his finger as he brings his thumb up to pet gently over her clit, teasing her as good as he knows how. 

“Tch, tch, tch,” he shakes his head in mock disappointment, the tip of his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “That wasn’t very quiet, was it, baby girl?” Dean furrows his brow in a teasing pout and the bartender rolls her eyes at him with a look he finds far too Sam-like. 

“How about you do something to shut me up then?” Y/N quips, raising her own brows in a challenge, and Dean has to suppress a chuckle. 

“Alright, but just remember you asked for it,” he grunts roughly, pulling her down off the counter with an abrupt yank on her hips and spinning her around so her ass is sticking out towards him, at the perfect height for his cock to sink straight into. With one hand pressing down on the center of her back, Dean rids himself of his jeans with the other, remembering to grab a condom from his pocket at the last moment and releasing the girl in front of him momentarily so he could roll the rubber down his aching erection. He gives himself a few strokes while he presses two fingers back between Y/N’s legs roughly, fucking into her and with a specific target, and Dean is satisfied with himself when he feels her cunt slick up around his hand even more as he massages her g-spot. He wonders if he’ll get her to squirt when she comes on his cock. 

Y/N buries her whines of pleasure against her forearms, and when Dean is satisfied with how wet he’s gotten her, he drags his fingers out and uses his other hand to line his cock up with the inviting hole, pushing himself in easily with a stifled groan. Y/N’s sounds of pleasure become a little too loud again and Dean tugs on her hair to force her head up and back, straining her throat and hopefully making it a little harder to get in a breath. 

“How long has it been since you’ve had a cock in here? You feel like a fucking virgin, I swear,” Dean growls softly, his words almost getting lost beneath the sound of his hips slapping against her ass every time he thrusts in. 

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Y/N pants, keeping her volume down more successfully. “Make me forget about him, Dean, please,” she begs, a high, keening whine getting caught in her throat as he directs his next ingress downwards so he’d rub the head of his cock over her g-spot. 

“No problem,” Dean groans, loving the way Y/N is squeezing his cock inside her with every thrust. He can see the muscles in her back straining where he has her shirt pushed up, and he’s pretty certain he’s gonna make her cum any minute. “Think about how good I feel inside you, how close you are already,” he leans further over her back so he can growl against her ear as he grinds against her ass, pushing in as deeply as possible and losing his breath as she flutters around him in a way that’s clearly involuntary–Dean’s been around the block enough to feel the difference. 

“Are you gonna cum for me?” he asks roughly, biting her earlobe and drawing a squeak out of her. It gives him a good excuse to bring a hand up to her mouth and slip his fingers inside to stifle her noises. She sucks greedily on his hand and Dean smirks to himself as he realizes she’s licking the taste of her own cunt off his skin. “God, you’re somethin’,” he moans, smacking his hips against her sharply. “Good fucking girl, cleaning your mess up for me.” 

“Mmphm,” Y/N moans by way of response, unable to say more with Dean’s fingers practically down her throat. “‘M, mm-onna umm,” she tries to warn him, and Dean decides that he wants to draw this out just a little bit longer. 

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, his forehead resting on her shoulder as he picks up the pace of his thrusts but changes the angle a little, trying to get his cock in deeper. “No you're not,” Dean pants. “You’re gonna wait for me like a good girl, ‘kay?” A groan of anguish is her only answer, but Dean feels her take a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself and draw back from the edge of her climax. “That’s it baby girl, so good for me, aren’t you?” he croons. “You took my fuckin’ breath away the second I saw this ass, and your cunt is even better than I could have imagined,” Dean babbles, he tends to start running his mouth when he’s about to cum. 

“D-eee,” the girl beneath him chokes out around his fingers, her volume climbing to discoverable heights once again, and Dean wraps the hand that isn’t finger-fucking her mouth over her nose, blocking out her air roughly. 

“Shh,” he commands. “I’m almost there baby, just let me use this cunt for what it’s fucking made for and we’ll both feel so good. Gonna make you see stars, sweetheart, can feel how good you’re squeezing me, I know you’re so close. You’re being such a good girl, waiting for me like I told you. You don’t have to wait anymore Y/N, but you still gotta stay quiet. I’m gonna take my hands away and rub that little clit because you’ve earned it and I want you to cum on my cock while I fill you up.” 

Dean yanks his fingers out of Y/N’s mouth and digs them between her legs, her spit making it easy to speed his fingers over her bundle of nerves, coaxing her orgasm out of her forcefully as the muscles in his thighs seize up and his balls draw tight. When Y/N’s cunt spasms around him Dean finally lets himself go, muffling his groan by biting down on her shoulder as he stills inside of her, his cock twitching as it empties into the condom. 

“Fuck,” the bartender swears under him, her mouth pressed against her forearm to stifle her own sounds.  

“Worth the wait?” Dean asks breathlessly, a grin already spreading across his face because he knows the answer.

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[thewhumpcaretaker]

Hii!!

Idk why, I kinda see Santino not wanting to stay still/get enough rest while having his wound stitched. So, John has to constantly tell him to try and relax and take rest and literally keep him in bed. Otherwise, his stitches could get torn. Because well, we know how stubborn Santino can be, his stitches probably got torn a little. And then he gets moody again, and John has to deal with him even more. But of course, Santino loves the comfort John gives him during all that. So, yeah, that was something I just thought of :3. What do you think about this? :)

Salut! Oh boy, this took a while, but it was so fun!! Santino definitely would be hard to contain, and so stressed about being unable to do anything. So here's a ficlet! :3

TW: blood, gunshot wound, crying, self-deprecation, suggestive of smut ;)

●・○・●・○・●

"No, you're not going out. You're hurt."

"It isn't a question, I have to." Santino was looking up at John with his moodiest glower. But even as flustered as he was, he wasn't able to get much color into his cheeks. He'd had a fair bit of blood loss after being shot by a rival clan. John didn't fully follow the logic of why he was shot - something about a retaliation for a life the Camorra had taken, which was in retaliation for a previous murder...it was exhausting just to try to untangle the chains of retribution. So instead, he'd just shot them dead on the spot. Nice and simple.

"I know this is stressful. But I will take care of everything. If they can't manage without you, that's too bad."

He gave a frazzled sigh and pushed himself up on one shoulder, attempting to rise. "It is too bad, it's no good at all. This damn bullet couldn't have come at a worse time. I - mmm..." But his words were lost in John's kiss. He whined into his boyfriend's mouth, which just spurred John into a primal enough mindset to shove Santino back against the pillows, straddling his waist and pinning down his shoulder with one hand. Even in this surge of dominance, he was gentle with Santino, making sure not to disturb the bullet wound.

"Stay down," he panted, both of them suddenly a little breathless.

"Well, when you put it like that...maybe I want you down here with me." Santino locked a hand onto the back of his hair and brought their lips crashing together again, his precious outing forgotten for the moment.

But it was not forgotten entirely. It was late in the night when John woke up to find Santino's side of the bed empty.

"Santino?" There was no answer. It was probably too much to hope that he had just gotten up for a trip to the restroom.

He bolted out of bed and down the hall towards Santino's study. Sure enough, he was sitting at his desk, writing with shaky hands that occasionally stopped to clutch at his side in obvious pain.

"What are you doing, love?"

Santino jumped, and looked up to see him. "Cazzo! [Fuck!] - don't scare me like that."

"I'm sorry. But you shouldn't be up."

"I had work to do," he said with a glare that broke off into a wince. This time, when his fingers brushed over his side, they came away covered in blood. He looked down at his hand and went pale. "What...John..."

"Okay, hey, easy." John was already on his knees next to him, lifting up his shirt to see what happened. "You tore your stitches. How did this happen?"

He tsked. "I don't know...I reached up to get a ledger from the top shelf, maybe that would do it..."

"Yeah. It's okay, we'll fix it."

"So irritating! I can't even lift my arms without falling apart, I can't do anything. I can't believe I let this happen to me, I'm so stupid." He was shaking even worse now. John took his hand despite the blood.

"No you're not. You don't need to do anything right now. Only rest. Let's go clean you up, okay?"

For a second, Santino frowned so deeply that John thought he might cry. So he wrapped around him in a tight hug. "I'm sorry you're hurt, love."

"This is bullshit. I just wanted to work...just get back on track so my schedule wouldn't be thrown off..."

He felt the shoulder of his shirt grow damp where Santino's eyes were squeezed shut against it, and kissed Santino's head in response. "I know. Come on, let's go clean you up before you lose any more blood."

So, for the next half hour, they sat in the bathroom, John gently cleaning and restitching his side while Santino sipped a juice that John had poured for him to replenish his blood. "An apple juice, seriously John? Like I'm a kid getting my blood drawn?" But John had insisted. And it worked pretty well. By the time John helped him back into the bedroom, he wasn't shaking anymore.

"I guess you'll say I can't work tomorrow either?" he asked.

"No."

Wrapped in his arms, Santino sighed. "You're going to be the death of me."

"I'm going to keep you alive. Just the way I like you."

"...Thank you for putting up with me, John."

"Nothing to put up with. I'm so lucky to be next to you."

Santino caressed his cheek and spoke softly, already on the verge of sleep. "Why did I ever get up in the first place? Everything I love is right here."

[nkirukaj]

I Want You, Simon- Chapter 20

Pairing: Simon Petrikov x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 1K

Simon sits up, with Samira still holding onto his neck, and her legs around his torso. He cautiously reaches for his glasses, trying not to wake her. He puts his arms back around her, feels her slightly grind against him and run her fingers through his hair. 

“Good morning,” he whispered

“Morning, Daddy” Samira slowly and sensually, dragged her tongue over the side of his neck, giving him chills all the way down his spine. “How awesome was last night?” she asked, already knowing the answer

Simon wasn’t exactly able to describe the night before, he knew that it was one of the most amazing things that he had ever experienced, but his feelings were turned in the opposite direction. His head said it was amazing, but his heart told him that he was awful, awful to have done this with and too Samira; to engage in this with her, dragging her into his mess before even he could make any sense of it. What was he doing to her? She was just a victim in this situation. 

“It was…something,” was all that Simon could say, Samira chuckling and kissing his face in response. Simon exhaled, feeling lucky that Samira had taken it in a good way. 

Samira didn’t even think about the lack of appropriate tools needed as she stacked the books on the shelves. She was too busy enjoying her post-coital bliss. She was so happy, that she found herself waiting for her break just so she could text Simon to see him. They didn’t even have to have sex, she just wanted to be around him once more. But it was odd, Samira had sent the text at the beginning of her break and it was now the end, no response from Simon. It was altogether strange that Simon wasn’t actually here right now. He visited her all the time. No matter, Samira was too happy to even spend time dwelling on it, she’d just visit him after work and see him then. 

But he wasn’t there after work, at least that’s what the empty air told her after she went back to his house and knocked on the door. Silence, absolutely nothing. She kocked several morre times and waited for half an hour before turning away. Tried calling him once more with no answer.

Two weeks he didn’t respond to her or reach out, until suddenly out of the blue, he called. 

“Samira?”

“Yes?” she answered expectedly

“I need to ask you something,”

“Yes….?”

“Are you pregnant?”

“What?” She snaps, unable to believe what she is hearing

“I just thought since we did…it and we didn’t use protection and you’re not 50 that maybe-” the phone clicks, the call disconnecting for him. Maybe that had been the wrong question to ask, but he had to know as a baby would change his life forever. But…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a baby. He had always thought of being a father…

His phone pinged with a message from Samira, a video. He opened the video with baited breath and shaking hands. In it was a Minerva bot, holding a blood sample, and saying ‘You are not pregnant.’

“No!” Samira whispers the next day when Simon does show up “You do not get to show up here all cute and apologetic after what you did to me,”

“I know,”

“We had sex, Simon! I gave you my body and you just disappeared on me! Do you know how humiliating that is?” She struggles to place a book on the shelf, but refuses his help “And instead of checking in on me, what do you call for? To see if I’m pregnant! Like to see if there are any consequences on your life”

“You’re right. I am so sorry that I put you through that. I know you’re getting tired of my excuse, but I am going through something and have a lot on my mind,” he kisses her forehead “It will never happen again,”

Samira huffs “Damn right it’ll never happen again,”

Simon chuckles and asks “Do you forgive me?”

“Can I ask you something?” She stares up at him with one arm around his neck and the other playing with his hair

“Yes”

She looks a little shy asking this “Did you like it?” Her face goes a bit pink

Simon smirks as he holds her by the waist “I loved it,”

“Would you want to…” her eyes darted around “maybe, do it again?” The blush gets deeper

He leans in and kisses her before answering, between kisses “Again and again and again,” his voice was deep and smooth, filled with certainty. 

She giggles and wraps both arms around his neck and kisses him back. 

Later that night when Samira spent the night at Simon’s house again, they were cuddled up, Simon in Samira’s arms when he suddenly awoke to find her gone.

Samira flushed the toilet and washed her hands, she came around the bedroom corner to find that Simon has a consistent stream of tears running down his face. She rushes to him, holding his head and his face in her arms

“What’s wrong?” she asks over and over, Simon, too busy choking on sobs to be able to respond

“I just woke up and, you-you weren’t there and I thought-“

Samira holds his face “Hey, I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. “ he continues to cry, she tilts his head up “Look at me. Hey, look at me.” He does “We’re okay.”

He hugs her by her midsection, so his head is in her chest. He keeps crying into her chest. 

“I’m here, with you.” 

Simon has stopped crying by now, but he’s still holding onto Samira. He has to touch her, grip her, feel her. He has to know for sure that she’s real, and that she’s there. She chuckles a bit. 

“What?” He asks

“The way your face is right now, with your lips all puckered out, really makes me want to kiss you. But I’m pretty sure that’s inappropriate.”

He loosens his grip on her torso and sits up to look at her, and then leans in to kiss her. First a few light ones, then a deep one.

[koiyan-hades-kid-with-a-system]

I Don't Care That Much

Lore excerpt

Koiyans first night of sleep apnea

Koiyan never came out of her room to avoid crossing Hades’ path and making him even more angry that she was still in the underworld. Unfortunately for them, Hades always knows who is in his domain. Hades was in his office late at night when he felt her soul stir in unease. Hades sighed and continued his work until he didn’t hear her breathing. Hades didn’t notice at first but then a voice in his mind said that it was too quiet. Hades shrugged it off for a second before realizing that mortals needed to breathe and there was a mortal in his house. He scrambled out of his chair, tripping over his sandals as he ran.

“Shitshitshitshitshit-” Hades repeated like a mantra as he scurried down the hall to the room where Koiyan was staying in

He busted open the door and saw the kid asleep on their bed but no motion from her chest. Hades immediately woke Koiyan up, the fatherly side of him taking over his disdain for the girl. She woke up with a start, taking a deep breath in as she lay in the bed.

“Damn it girl, you can't just stop breathing out of nowhere kid!”

“I did?”

“You did.”

“Oh.”

Koiyan looked blankly at the roof of the canopy bed.

“Sorry.”

“What are you even sorry for, girl? You can’t control what your body does when unconscious.”

“For pulling you out of your work.”

“The work can wait. It’s just about shades final destination.”

“Isn’t that important?”

“...It can wait.”

Koiyan let out a small chuckle, the faint smile fading from her face after a beat of silence. Hades sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the bare room. Hades never usually had guests that weren’t shades or his relatives so the guest rooms were neglected. The newly dusted room only had a bed, bedside tables, and an empty shelf. Hades shifted in his spot, seeing not even the bare necessities were present in the room for a child like them.

“What do you like child?” Hades tilted his head to look at the ceiling, avoiding to look at the kid.

“... The night sky.”

“Then we shall install that into the ceiling then.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“You are staying here for a while now. It is only necessary for the room to reflect you.”

“You’re allowing me to stay?”

“Haven’t I been allowing you to stay ever since you came down here?”

Hades stood up from the bed and strode to the door, his back facing Koiyan.

“And do eat more. I have been hearing the servers worry about you after your meals. Do you really only eat just a part of your meal? Not even a fifth of the food?”

“The servings were too big…”

“That is only the correct serving size for a child your size what do you mean the portion is too much for you?” Hades' voice grew a bit irritated, not at Koiyan but at who had been taking care of the child before Zagreus found them.

“I’m just used to eating smaller.”

“Fine, your servings will be smaller but do try and eat more than what's given. You’re just skin and bones and that much will not satisfy you.”

Koiyan let out a small hum of acknowledgment before Hades exited the room, gently shutting the door. Hades let out a sigh and opened his eyes to see Nyx just standing there when she hadn’t been standing there before. Hades almost jumped out of his skin.

“Nyx!” Hades quickly quieted himself to a whisper from his startled yelp, “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to check on the child myself but it seems like you have had it covered,” Nyx gave a sly smile.

“It was only because she had stopped breathing, Nyx. Nothing more than that.” 

“What was that about installing the night sky in their room?”

“Just something to let her get acclimated to the world down here.”

Nyx gave a knowing smile, seeing through Hades’ apathetic demeanor

“We shall get that situated tomorrow morning then,” Nyx nodded before disappearing in black smoke, leaving Hades in the hallway.

Hades sighed, dragging his hands down his face at the interaction. He didn’t see the kid as his family, but when her soul stirred again, Hades almost ran back into the room before sensing that she was alright and taking his hand off of the door handle. He banged the palm of his head to his forehead, trying to knock some ‘sense’ back into himself. She’s just a product of an affair. She is nothing, but Hades couldn’t help but worry.

“For the sake of me, that kid will be the end of me.”

[somekndofnature]

No Other Way #22

Another for the domaystic2022. I’m going to get there before the end of the year guys. I just know it! Parts of this are taken directly from arguments I've had with my partner at the grocery store (if slightly exaggerated for humors sake). Sorry to those of you who love pork rinds but I just can't stand them. 😝 I really enjoyed writing this more playful side of Inuyasha. I hope it makes you laugh. I'm not entirely satisfied with it (there are times when I feel like he strays too far OOC) but I think maybe I'm just in a bad mood right now. Who knows? This story is non-explicit, SFW.  

Day 22: In the Wrong Aisle\

Fandom: Inuyasha Modern MMA AU

Pairing: Inuyasha/Kagome

Rating: G

AO3

'Cause It's Out the Same Door That It Came, Well It's Leaving, Leaving

Inuyasha meandered through the sparsely populated store aisle, letting the rickety metal cart take the brunt of his weight. He yawned loud and long, earning a tsking sound from an old woman ahead of him but ignored it. 

Where the hell was Kagome? She took off squealing about how she had forgotten something but that was over five minutes ago. Inuyasha turned down the next aisle and, seeing that it was empty, sucked in a deep breath.

“Kagome!” he shouted. 

Several gasps and grumbles answered him from other aisles but none in the correct tenor. 

“Kagome!”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes, stopping short when he passed an entire section dedicated to prepackaged bowls of ramen. He pursed his lips, looking up and down the empty lane before reaching an arm in and sweeping an entire shelf of delicious food into the cart. He whistled innocently to himself as he turned down the next row.  

“Kagome!” he called once again. No one answered him. 

He walked through the next three aisles without so much as a tingle of interest, intermittently shouting his girlfriend’s name at the top of his lungs. When he turned down the final one, Inuyasha grinned, eyes sparkling at the shelves full of different colored bags of snacks and potato chips. He pulled down several of his favorites and filled the cart to the brim, making sure to also grab a couple ‘healthy’–she was lying to herself–bags of popcorn Kagome liked in the process.

Satisfied with his selections, Inuyasha continued down the lane. “KA-GO–” 

“Inuyasha!” came a furious hiss from behind him.  

He whipped around, grinning when he spotted a red-faced Kagome walking towards him with her arms full. He could already smell the spicy scent of her annoyance as she approached, jeans clinging to her swishing hips like a second skin. She blew an errant curl off her cheek that had escaped the dark ponytail clipped over one shoulder, exposing the long column of a slender neck he had been tempted to nibble on all day. Damn, he was a lucky hanyou.  

“Hey, there you are.” 

“Yes, here I am,” she snapped, eyes narrowed. “Why are you hollering like that?”

“Because I couldn’t find you.” 

“So you need to alert the entire store? Couldn’t you just use your nose?”  

“Around all this food? My nose gets distracted. Besides,” he shrugged, “what’s the big deal?” 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, Inuyasha, and this is my favorite market,” she said, circling him to drop her items in the cart when her eyes widened. “What is all this?!”

“Food.” He maintained an innocent expression.  

“It’s junk!” she said, making room for her produce and straightening her dark red sweater. She stilled and frowned, snatching up a bag of pork rinds. “What are these?” 

“Fucking delicious is what they are,” he replied with a grin, making a hasty grab for them. 

Kagome jumped back just in time and Inuyasha raised a surprised brow. Her reflexes were getting better. 

“These smell like butt.” She emphasized each word with a shake of the bag. 

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, ‘Gome. Just say ‘ass’ like the rest of us.”  

“Fine. They smell like ass. Better?” 

Inuyasha let his mouth fall open in mock outrage, unable to keep his lips from turning upward with amusement. “You said a naughty word.”  

“Stop it.” Kagome fought a smile. 

“You know what happens to bad girls that say naughty words,” he said with a fanged smirk, sliding closer to her. “They get spankings.” 

She giggled and pressed a hand against his chest. “Down boy.”

“You’re right” he leaned in to whisper. “You’d just like it.” 

“Inuyasha!” she gasped, color spreading down to her neck.

He pounced, grabbing the bag from her hands and holding it up triumphantly. “Ha! Too slow.” 

Kagome pouted as he held them away from her reaching hands before finally giving up and crossing them over her chest. “Fine, but if you get those, you’re eating them on the balcony.” 

“What? Why?”

“Because you’ll make the entire apartment smell.” 

He spent only a few seconds contemplating before tossing the bag back in the cart. “Fine, I agree to your terms.” 

“Really?” she asked in a dry tone. “You’re gonna eat pork rinds outside…in February.” 

“They’re worth it.”  

Kagome imitated a dreamy sigh. “Oh, to be worth it.” 

“I mean,” he said with a shrug. “I’d offer to eat you out on the balcony in February but—” 

She slapped her hand over his mouth, fighting to maintain a serious expression but he could hear the laughter in her tone. “Inuyasha! What is up with you today?” 

He waggled his eyebrows and licked her palm to accentuate his proposition.  

“Gross!” Kagome squealed and pulled away, wiping her hand on her jeans. “Seriously, have you been spending too much time with Miroku or something? You used to be such a prude.”

“Keh, everyone’s prude when compared to that hentai. Besides,” he said, sidling up next to her. “You can’t really blame me. Have you looked in a mirror today?”  

“When we left,” she replied, touching her head. “Why? Is something in my hair?” 

Inuyasha laughed and slid an arm around her waist. “No, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous. Can’t keep my hands off you.” 

“I can feel that,” she said with a coy smile and a hint of reproach, moving one of said sneaky hands back up to the small of her back from where it had been resting on her butt.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?” 

“We’re in public,” she said, flushing. 

“”Gome, there’s no one around us,” he whispered, curling his knuckle under her chin.

Inuyasha leaned down, brushing a kiss against her soft cheek. When he pulled away, the thick fan of her dark lashes fluttered open, revealing stormy blue eyes. He rubbed the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip and smiled when her mouth parted around an aroused breath, tongue flicking out to taste his skin. His brows drew together as a spike of heat shot straight to his groin. He inched forward, intent on kissing her breathless, when the sound of approaching footsteps made his ears twitch.  

Inuyasha cursed and stepped away amid her whimpered protest just as their illusion of privacy was shattered. The old woman from before turned down the aisle, her widened eyes indicating that she had caught at least a glimpse of their intimate moment. She froze and leveled a glare at Inuyasha before quickening her pace. 

It seemed to take Kagome a moment to shake herself back into awareness, face going beet red when she noticed they were no longer alone. She spun around, suddenly absorbed in scanning the shelves as the woman passed them, mumbling under her breath about improper behavior. It took forever for the old bat to shuffle her way to the other end of the row, leaving them in peace. 

Inuyasha sniggered as she turned the corner. “You should see your face.” 

“Inu-yasha,” Kagome seethed, whipping around to throw several rapid punches into his shoulder.  

“Ow! Quit hittin’ me,” he said, trying to affect a pitiful tone but his intermittent laughter made it impossible. 

“Yeah right, like I could hurt you.” She rolled her eyes. 

Inuyasha sulked. “You’re stronger than you look, woman.”

“Oh you poor baby,” Kagome said, tone thick with sarcasm as she stroked his arm and stood on tiptoe to press a kiss against his jaw. “Better?” 

“Keh,” he muttered, turning her back to face the cart. “Come on, I'm ready to get you home.” 

“You still have to put some of this stuff back.” 

“What? And here I thought I made you forget.” 

“Nice try,” she said with a wry grin. “But we just don’t have the space for all this.” 

“Fine,” Inuyasha grumbled, grabbing up one of the bags of popcorn only to be stopped short by a sharp tug. 

Kagome was glaring at him, mouth tight with a stubborn frown. “Not these! Don’t start with my stuff.” 

“Oh I see,” Inuyasha replied with his brow raised. “My junk food is unhealthy and disgusting but yours is just fine.” 

She huffed in irritation. “Well, it isn’t pork skin drowned in hot oil, so yeah.” 

“Let’s see about that, shall we?” He worked the package out of her clenched hands and turned it around, reading through the nutrition label. “There’s that many calories per serving?”

“Okay, Inu.” She rested a hand on her cocked hip, the picture of feminine pique.

“And there’s how many servings per container?” His eyes widened in feigned shock. “I’ve seen you eat an entire bag in one sitting, ‘Gome.” 

Her brow twitched as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve made your point!” 

“And look at the salt content. Isn’t that what you’re always nagging me about?” 

“Argh, fine!” Kagome threw her hands up in the air. “We can keep everything. Just shut up and stop ruining my favorite snack.” 

She whipped around, grabbing a hold of the cart handle and stomping down the aisle. He followed after her, brows furrowing in genuine confusion as he continued to read. 

“Why the fuck is there that much sugar in popcorn?” 

“That’s enough, Inuyasha!” 

[cemeterylaned]

all roads lead back to you

chapter five - too much labor

Del stands in front of the nonfiction shelf of the school library, concentrating on reshelving books about the civil war. Music blared in her earbuds as she looked from down to up, pushing the books in by their spines. Her arms were hurting from carrying loads of laundry up and down the stairs the days before, and having a heavy enough driving force to cut snakes in half in the backyard. Her hands were calloused, but the thick skin was already coming off and had already bled when she was in geoscience earlier this week. 

Being the library’s student aide was one of the few times she had time to herself - the other times she had were when she was sleeping, taking a piss or if her dad and brothers went to work. But soon, the year would be over and that peace would be gone. School was a break from home, kind of. When she wasn’t at school, her dad would be up her ass to call every hour or every other hour while they were at work, and she was home alone - or even when she was at work. As she leaned up to place another book about how the North kicked the South’s ass - through an empty space, Orlando was looking at her and whisper-yelled. 

“Cookies!” 

Del jumped, yanking the earbuds out of her ear. 

“Jesus fuck!” 

“Damn! Keep your vocie down.” He whispered back, coming around the shelf to talk to her face-to-face. A few people stared at them, including the librarian that shushed them. 

“What the fuck? Can’t just fuckin’ tap on my shoulder like a normal person?” 

“No, hey-” Orlando leans on the cart casually. “How you doin’?” 

Del’s eyebrow quirked, and looked at him skeptically. 

“How am I doin’?”

“Yeah, like how you holdin’ up? School year’s almost over. You been a damn good student body president. Don’t get to see you much though.” 

“Fine, thanks.” Her response was short, and going back to doing what she did before. She doesn’t ask him how he was doing in return. 

“Yeah? Well, I’m good. Thanks for asking. Do you uh, wanna hang out?” 

Del stops what she’s doing, and rests a hand on her hip and looks at him. 

“I told you, my fuckin’ dad says no. He’ll skin me and you.” 

“Well, it’s the end of the year. You don’t think he’ll let up?”

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t check on me all fuckin’ year, and you just go ‘hey, wanna hang out?’” 

“You haven’t said shit to me either, Del.” Orlando shakes his head, and crosses his arms. “Cole told me he talked to you too.” 

She groaned, pushing her cart toward the science fiction section. “Yeah, and I told him to fuck off.” 

“Yeah! So you can’t really be mad at me, because you told me to fuck off too.” He walks alongside her, and she stops and resumes her duties. 

“I’m not mad. I told you, I can’t fuckin’ go anywhere.” 

“You haven’t even tried to ask!” 

“How would you know?” 

“You don’t hang out with nobody. I hear that announcement for your ass to go to the office like three times a week, and you won’t ask someone to hang out with you. Ain’t nobody hanging out with you and your old man. No offense.”

“None taken.” She mumbles. “I don’t bother. I’m gonna be fuckin’ stuck here until college or die, probably.” 

“You should try.” 

“To say I’m hanging with you?”

“He don’t know me, I think. I don’t think he knew I knew - know - Wayne.” Del glances over her shoulder and feels her heart tug. 

“I don’t know. He’ll probably make you come over, or babysit us the entire time at your house. I’d rather be babysat. I fuckin’ hate my house.”

“Del.” Orlando stands beside her at the shelf, looking at her face. “You gotta start chipping away at him. He gotta think you loyal enough not to leave by now. You bust your ass here in school and always be answering him when he calls.” 

“In school? In school?” She hisses, resting a hand on the shelf. “Orlando, I fuckin’ replaced my ma. Cookin’, cleanin’, laundry- I’m a fuckin’ live-in maid. I do more than bust my ass.” She scoffed. “I need to get the fuck away from here.” 

Orlando felt bad. Wayne, right now was at his house reading Conan the Barbarian comics and helping his grandma put up shelves and clean out the attic. He couldn’t tell her that, it would send her over the edge. He fought to calm Wayne down to not storm the school. He explained that they needed to be methodical so he wouldn’t get beaten black and blue by Bobby Luccetti. But it felt wrong, knowing the distance between Del and Wayne was 6 or 7 miles max- instead of the distance from Ocala to Brockton. 

“Your old man can come check out my house and vet me and my grandma. It’s white boy free.” He holds his hands up. 

“Great.” She sighed, rolling on to the romance section. “I dunno. I can ask him today after school.” 

“Great!” The last bell of the day rang, and he snapped his fingers and pointed at her, walking away. “See you later, Cookies!” 

“Bye.” 

She watched him depart, and rolled the cart back from which it came, and walked outside to wait at her usual spot to wait for her dad. Orlando scrambled to get on his bike and put on his helmet, and sped away from the school. The loud pop and rumble of the pick-up truck that belonged to Bobby became closer, and closer, and closer. He pulled up to the curb, and Del swung open the door and climbed into the truck, plopping down into the seat. She was grateful Teddy and Carl weren’t with him. 

“How was school?” He asked, turning away from the lot and driving off. 

“It was school.” 

“What did you do? You got stuff to do school events and shit? I saw it on the calendar.” 

“Posters for prom. End of school ideas.” She rests her arm on the truck door, looking out the window at all the students walking in groups to go home - chatting and smiling. 

“You makin’ posters?” 

“Yeah.” Silence. She thinks about Orlando. “Daddy?” 

“Yeah Delilah?” 

“Can I visit a school friend’s house this weekend? After work? He said you can come over and meet his grandma, and stay while we hang out-” The words flow as fast as she can talk, nervous. Bobby cuts her off and points a finger at her. 

“I said no fuckin’ boyfriends until you got your own home.” 

“He’s not a boyfriend!” She snapped, and crossed her arms. “He wants to hang out and study for the SATs.” 

“Don’t you take those next year?” 

“Yeah, but he wants to start studyin’, and so do I.” 

Bobby scoffed. “Fine. But I’ll be meetin’ his fuckin’ parents and him. If I don’t like what I see and hear, we’re fuckin’ leaving. You understand me?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

They made small talk about his day, but after that, Del was counting down the hours, minutes and seconds to school tomorrow and to tell Orlando she could come over with Bobby’s permission. 

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

Del woke up with a newfound excitement and joy she hadn’t known in a while. She got ready for school, and the minute Bobby dropped her off, she dashed to Orlando’s locker. It was open, with him digging for some textbooks inside. Del hit the locker next to him with her hand. 

“My dad said yes. But he said if he don’t like you, I’m goin’ home.” 

Orlando jumped, and closed his locker - trying to catch his breath. “Jesus - Sweet. I’m pullin’ the grandma Alzheimer's and dementia card. You think he’ll feel bad?”

“Maybe. Depends. Don’t lay it on too thick.” She scrunched her nose. “But uh…thanks. For pushin’ me. I’m actually excited to hang out, and not be stuck hangin’ out with fuckin’ morons.” She smiled - and it was genuine. She was excited. Even if they weren’t really studying, they could watch Encino Man and it was nice to know that he missed Wayne too. 

“I am too.” Orlando gives her a kind smile, and closes his locker - throwing an arm around her. She doesn’t even try to pull away. “I know it’s hard without our boy, Cookies.” He was sympathetic to her, and pulled her into a half hug. “We’ll be alright, okay? I just know it.” He pulls his address out of his pocket, and hands the slip to her and waves her off, walking to class. She watched him go - and shoved his address into her pocket of her jeans.

The rest of Thursday, and Friday, she couldn’t wait until Saturday to go to Orlando’s. When Saturday came she packed her backpack with books to simulate them studying. She got ready for work, and Bobby drove her there and dropped her off. Her shift was from 10-4 today - she told Orlando she would be over around 5. It was busy as hell, and it made her day go by fast. She was so excited, she didn’t even feel when her feet started to hurt because her shoes were so worn out in the sole. 

When her shift was over, Bobby picked her up and Del sat on pins and needles the whole way there. She talked about work, even the shitty parts of it. Her dad was surprised, for her to be so open and bubbly. She hated talking to him, she hated sharing stuff about her day. But she was so anxious, the words were falling out of her mouth like word vomit. He drove to Orlando’s provided address, and parked out front. She didn’t bother changing out of her uniform - in a white shirt covered in pizza sauce, a green apron - and she smelled a little like garlic. She nervously followed Bobby to the front door, holding her backpack over her shoulder. He firmly knocked at the door. 

Shortly after the knock, Orlando opened the door. He was wearing a collared shirt, jeans and greeted them with a smile. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Luccetti, Del.” 

“You Orlando?” Bobby asked. 

“Yes sir. Come in,” He stepped to the side, gesturing for the two of them to come into the house. His grandma was sitting on the couch, knitting a magenta blanket, and watching what looked like to be the Hallmark Channel. Bobby looked around the room, inspecting every inch - from the walls, the floor, anything on the shelves. Del sheepishly moved behind him. Orlando stood next to where his grandma sat, and gestured to her. 

“This is my grandmother.” She looked up, and did a wave and flashed a smile, then went back to knitting. 

“So, you both studyin’?” Bobby clarified. His voice was projected. He sounded like an asshole.

“Yes, sir. Prepping for the SATs next year. May I offer you some water?” Del wanted to crack up to the performance Orlando was putting on.

“Yeah…That’d be nice. Thanks, kid.” Orlando promptly went to the fridge, and pulled out two bottles of water - one for Bobby, and then one for Del. “It just you and your grandma? Where are your folks at?” He looked around for any evidence of anyone else other than an old woman and her grandson, looking at the pictures on the walls. Orlando tracked his eyes. 

“No, just my grandma and I. My parents passed away. She got dementia.” He looks at his grandma, nodding to her. Bobby’s stony face softened. 

“Sorry to hear that kid.” 

“No worries. We’re doing really well. She thinks I’m grown though, and go to work.” Bobby chuckles in response and smiles. 

“You’re alright. Okay, go on, go study. We’re only stayin’ an hour. Delilah’s gotta make dinner.” He pats Del’s back and her face falters, avoiding Bobby’s gaze. Orlando looks at her. She wasn’t kidding about being miserable and parentified to take care of the Luccetti household. 

“Thank you sir.” Orlando nods - almost bowing to him. He does a little jog up his stairs, and Del follows behind in a walk. 

“And keep that fuckin’ door open!”

Once her dad was out of earshot, Del elbowed Orlando. 

“Yes sir? Thank you sir? Ain’t that layin’ it on thick?” 

“He bought it, didn’t he?” 

They walk into Orlando’s room. Del had never visited before. Snack wrappers, dirty clothes in a pile on the floor. “Jesus, Orlando. It’s like you fuckin’ hibernate in here.” 

Orlando’s eyes darted to the trash and scooped it up promptly, stuffing it into a trash can and picked up the clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket. He was grateful that he had amazing improve skills. Wayne was hanging out in here before she got here - and shoved him into the attic in case Bobby asked for a house tour. He didn’t really explain to his best friend what ‘a girl was coming over’ meant, he just made up an excuse about the girl in the neck brace he had a crush on. Wayne asked no further questions because he didn’t care. Guilt was rising in Orlando’s throat like stomach acid. 6 or 7 miles was now 60 or 70 feet tops, depending on where in the attic he was - if he was above them, it was like 10. 

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

For the next hour, Del and Orlando actually did study - but it was more so her tutoring him than it was studying. They worked on statistics homework - which he was taking as now a senior, and she was taking as a junior. It was actually really productive to have someone hold you accountable for your work. While they were wrapping up, noises came from the ceiling, almost sounding like footsteps. It couldn’t be heard really from downstairs, moreso above Orlando’s room. Del looks up, face scrunched in concern. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Orlando tilts his head up at the ceiling, and in his head, he wants to kick Wayne’s ass. He looks down at her, matching her look of concern - before softening it into understanding, as if he had an epiphany. 

“That? Oh - it’s raccoons. The exterminator couldn’t come today, but they gonna be here sometime this week when I’m home from school.” 

“Must be some fatass raccoons. What’s goin’ in your garbage?” She snorts, raising her eyebrows while shoving textbooks back into her backpack. “Thanks for lettin’ me hang out.” She throws her backpack over her shoulder. A genuine but nervous smile crosses her face. “It was nice to talk to someone I don’t fuckin’ live with.”

“No problem, Cookies. Mi casa is tu casa, or whatever the fuck the saying is.” 

“Delilah! Let’s fuckin’ go!” Bobby shouted from the base of the stairs. 

“Well, gotta go.” She half frowned.

 They both came downstairs, and Orlando opened the front door for them and stepped out of the way so they could walk over the threshold to his porch. 

“Thanks for helpin’ my girl out. Appreciate you.” Bobby remarked, gently bumping his fist against Orlando’s shoulder. Del walked out of the house first and down the steps to the truck door, looking back at the house. Bobby lingered in the doorway, exchanging words with the boy. After another minute, Bobby walks down the driveway as well and to the driver’s side door - opening it with a look of contentment on his face. Del yanked open her door, and waved goodbye to Orlando standing in the doorway. He glances behind him, and goes to close the door. Her gaze lingers. A strange feeling washed over her, like she was being watched or stared at. 

“Del! Get in the fuckin’ truck. I don’t got all afternoon.” 

She climbs inside the truck, and pulls her seatbelt over her lap and clicks it in. She watches the house disappear as they begin their drive home. She felt betterish, now. Like she could have some kind of hope that she’d be okay. It was an hour where her mind wasn’t occupied by Wayne’s absence. 

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

Thursday afternoon to that Saturday morning Del visited, Orlando had gone grocery shopping for the three of them - himself, Wayne and his grandma. He and Wayne went shopping for stuff for him - clothes, soap, shoes. Teenage boy essentials. They dropped off stuff to donation centers that they cleaned out of the attic (mostly because it was driving Orlando insane). His grandma’s old clothes, and her weirdly large collection of black Santas. Wayne was getting adjusted to the guest room, despite its smell of mothballs and the floral patterns. The closet was cleaned out for his new clothes, and they found a couple of posters to hang up on the walls to make him feel more at home. 

Saturday afternoon, Orlando told Wayne he had a girl coming over from school - the girl who broke her neck, or something like that. He vaguely remembers her presence before he beat the shit out of someone with a trumpet. He didn’t want her to recognize him and ring any alarms for school police to come and raid his house. Wayne reluctantly agreed, and Orlando pushed him up the steps of the ladder. And he waited. 

All he could think about was seeing Del. He was so close now, and it irritated him that Orlando told him he had to wait. All this time away, and now he is back, and he can’t even see her?

He boredly sifted through what boxes were left in the attic while he waited for this girl to leave. He crept around as quietly as he could, but the floor creaked and whined under his weight. He could hear talking, and then someone yelling. There was a small window that faced the street. Wayne crouched to crawl to it at the end of the ceiling and roofing. He used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe the thick caked on dust off, and peered out the glass. His stomach dropped - feeling like a ton of bricks crushed his ribs. 

Bobby Luccetti’s truck. 

He keeps looking down, his eyes fixed on the truck and felt the heat of the fire igniting, rising to his head - so hot, he could swear steam was coming out of his ears. His hand balled into a fist, and dug his fingernails into his palm. A girl with brown hair tied back in a ponytail and pair of jeans with a white shirt and green apron looked up at the house. 

Del. 

He felt his breath was taken straight from his lungs. He restrained to keep his legs from moving - from dashing down the rungs of the ladder, and down the stairs and out that front door. An older man walked into view, and Wayne recognized him as Bobby. The adrenaline flooded his veins. He watches them get in the car and drive off. The minute the truck starts moving, Wayne throws himself down the ladder, stumbling as fast as he can to get down and looks for Orlando. Orlando was talking up the stairs, and barely made it to the top landing before Wayne grabbed the collar of his shirt in a seething rage. 

“You fuckin’ lied to me.” Orlando’s eyes glanced down at Wayne’s hand, which was white knuckled as he gripped his shirt. 

“Well, technically a girl did come over-” 

“You fuckin’ lied. Del was here.” Orlando was sweating. 

“Man, I couldn’t just have you come down like you a fuckin’ guest star on Family Feud!”

“I need to see her.” 

Orlando pulled on his shirt to try to get out of Wayne’s grasp, pulling the fabric from between his fist. 

“You can’t. Wayne, we ain’t doing shit until we plan, and that means you ain’t doing shit until you plan.” 

“I don’t want to plan. I want to be with Del.” 

Orlando grabbed Wayne’s shoulders, and stared at him square in the eye. 

“Man, you don’t think I want you to be with her too? I do, but we can’t just have you pull up on her and her dad.” Wayne burned holes into Orlando’s eyes and skull. “You don’t know how her old man be raking her over the coals.” 

The fire grew hotter. It felt like he was coming down with a fever. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

“She’s been hella workin’, and bustin’ her ass. Cookin’, cleanin’, actually workin’. You show up at her house, and her fuckin’ dad will kill you for real this time. And you’d never ever see her again. Is that what you want?” 

The brief description of how she was being treated made that fire white hot. 

“No. I want Del, though.” 

“So, we gotta plan man.” Orlando shakes Wayne. 

“How?” 

“We start learnin’ their routine. When they work, how long they work. I’m gon’ get into her house and see how that shit functions.” 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m not gonna fuckin’ sit here.” 

Orlando furrowed his brows in frustration. “Yeah, you kinda are.” 

“Fuck no.” 

“Wayne, you are a fuckin’ walking red flag. You need to lay low, or you’ll get us both in trouble, and your girlfriend’s dad is gonna lock her in a fuckin’ shed if you do somethin’ stupid.” 

“I don’t wanna.” His fixed gaze on his friend made Orlando uncomfortable. He looks away, then back at Wayne. 

“Look man. She misses you too. She don’t talk to nobody, and hasn’t talked to nobody since you been gone. This is the first time she been able to get out the house and her dad was here the whole time. We gotta work up to being able to have him leave her here and pick her up later. Yeah?” 

Wayne looked down at the plush, deep pink carpet. Orlando was right. He knew that to be true. The weight of thinking about the time until he could see her was soul crushing. 

“Yeah.” 

“So, this is what we’re gonna do. I’ll keep impressin’ her old man and get him to trust me enough to leave, and come back when we get that far - you come out that room and y’all can reunite. You gotta trust me on this. It’ll fuckin’ suck, but it needs time.” 

Wayne kept his eyes to the floor. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay. Now, let’s go make dinner. You ain’t livin on no beef jerky and shit anymore. We’re gonna make fettuccine alfredo.” 

[capybaraonabicycle]

🖋️ + 10 if it’s not too much trouble! :)

Thank you for voting!! This got way too long like it tends to get with me. Also, they’re having a small fight and there is some Martha x 10 in here, too. And I didn't have the time to properly edit/proofread. I hope you'll like it anyway. Enjoy! For everybody else: Vote here for doctor/TARDIS in @drwho-shipbracket 's ship poll. Only about an hour to go and it is very close! If you send me a 🖋️ or 🖌️ and proof you voted doctor/TARDIS, I will write/draw you something :)

Sweet Magnetism, Sweet Magnetism… Magnetic toys through the ages, Magnetospheres, Magnetism as a religion – none of these were the issue he was looking for. Seemed like it wasn’t in the section on Magnetism either, then. The Doctor dropped his hand from the book spines in defeat. He had already checked for the author’s first, middle and last name and searched both on the shelf for their home planet and in all sections on food and cooking he could find.

He had been so sure it had to be in this part of the TARDIS library. If it wasn’t here, he was at the end of his wits. And apparently it wasn’t or it had spontaneously developed a severe case of invisibility.

That was, except….except if he had been very clever and stored it in the hidden compartment for cookie-related issues each shelf possessed!

With newfound vigour, the Doctor sprinted the few steps down to the end of the shelf. He ran his hands over the dark wood, looking for the hidden leaver. It turned out to be particularly difficult to find, but that seemed to be the theme of the day, didn’t it? And when he had finally found it, the leaver was stuck. Well, that was nothing a little bit of oil couldn’t fix, right? A deep reach inside his coat’s pockets revealed an oilcan and soon the leaver was shimmering and slimy, ready to be pulled.

“Help me out here, dear” he mumbled to the TARDIS. No reply came - which was odd - but he couldn’t focus on that now. Not when there was a compartment to crack open. The book was almost in his grasp, he just needed a little strength, just to push a bit, and a bit MORE and –

The leaver moved. The compartment jumped open with attitude, neatly hitting him in the shin.

“Ow” he complained, holding his smarting leg. “Warn me next time!”

Still no reply from her but there was a more pressing matter: The compartment was empty.

“Noooo!” he howled. Now he had injured himself in vain and he wasn’t one step closer to solving his problem! Where was that damned book?

“This isn’t possible” he mumbled, climbing face-first into the compartment to make 100% sure that he hadn’t just missed it. “I know the cataloguing system needs work, but I have looked everywhere, haven’t I, dear?”

Again, no answer. For the third time, no answer. He froze, realisation dawning on him. The TARDIS hadn’t just ignored his last three attempts at communication. She had been completely quiet for the whole time of his search. Not even an unrelated chirp or soothing hum in between. And then the compartment hitting him and that strange, foreboding, almost …grumpy feeling his psychic nerves were picking up on –

“You’re doing this on purpose!” he exclaimed, rising so quickly out of the shelf that he nearly bumped his head. “You’ve been hiding the book!”

Finally, there was an answer: A rather indignant beep, confirming his suspicion.

“Not fair!” he complained. “When were you going to tell me? Were you just going to let me scramble around here like an idiot for eternity?!”

Another chirp and a strong psychic wave that simply screamed ‘would serve you right’.

“Hey!” he shouted back, crossing his arms. “I know I made a mistake, but as you can see: I am trying to solve the problem. Stop sabotaging me!”

“What problem?”

He whirled around to see Martha leaning against another shelf, eyeing him curiously. Immediately his spirit lifted. Who needed annoying, righteous, infuriating time-machines when they could talk to a human anyway?

“You’re up” he beamed.

“I am” she confirmed, her brow furrowing in concern. “What problem?”

“Oh, nothing” he tried to reassure her. Which never really seemed to work. “Just trying to find a book.”

“What book?”

“On sweet magnetism.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Martha was suppressing a shudder.

“It’s talking about the unique magnetism of sugar molecules” he explained. “Very interesting volume, I’m sure you’d like it.”

“Sure” Martha only looked partly convinced. “But the TARDIS has hidden it from you?”

“Yeah” he sighed, realising something. “Hang on… how long have you been standing there?”

Now a small, amused smile pulled at her mouth. “Long enough. Nice slapstick with the leaver.”

So, the TARDIS had not only hurt him but also hidden Martha’s approach from him so his friend could make fun of him now. They were so having a word over this. Probably, she had even helped Martha find him, playing favourites over him with his own companion! The nerve!

“Hey, that was also HER fault” he defended himself.

Immediately, he could hear a whooshing sound to his left, and before he could react, a heavy, leatherbound book had hit him in the arm.

“Stop it!” he growled.

Martha was watching him curiously, stuck between amusement and confusion.

“She’s cross with me” he explained, rubbing his arm with a wince. “And I am starting to get cross with her back.”

Unfortunately, Martha was not ready to show pity yet. She raised a challenging eyebrow. “What did you do?”

He stopped rubbing his arm to rub at his neck instead as that suddenly seemed more important.

“Spewed cake over the console” he admitted quietly. The TARDIS gave a mournful hum in confirmation and he almost rolled his eyes. Way to be dramatic.

Martha snorted. “Why? Don’t you love cake?”

“There were pears in it!” he argued. “I hate pears!”

“What did you eat pear cake for then?” Martha sighed.

“I didn’t check the ingredients” he shrugged. “I thought it would be delicious. Malmoothian Laundromat and Bakery, best cakes in the universe. Well, so I thought until they started putting pear into their stuff.”

He spewed out the word not unlike what he had done to the cake on his poor TARDIS’s console earlier. His poor TARDIS who was being really annoying about not helping him now, he had to remind himself. He was cross with her right now, after all.

“And what do you need the book for?” Martha asked, as always ready with the important questions. And this one was particularly delicious to answer.

“See” he started rambling down an explanation, walking up and down the library aisles in talking. “I have read this book before; about how special the magnetic properties of sugar molecules are. And I thought, there will be a hell of a lotta sugar molecules inside the cakecrumbs all over the console. So if I could build a machine that works with that specific kind of magnetism, it could attract the crumbs and the console would be clean and the TARDIS happy and we could finally fly somewhere again together.”

“Aha” Martha said, way too unimpressed. “Have you thought about just vacuuming her?”

“What?” He stared at her dumbfoundedly.

“A vacuum cleaner” Martha repeated. “Uses pressure instead of magnetism but will also attract those crumbs for you.”

She smiled sweetly.

“A vacuum cleaner?” he asked scandalised, his voice climbing up to the tops of the library shelves. But well, when he thought about it, he had to admit…

“…that could work, yeah” he mumbled.

“Maybe the TARDIS wasn’t trying to annoy you” Martha offered, patting the nearest shelf conspiringly. “Maybe she was just trying to show you that you were being stupid in your brilliance. Like so often.”

“No. No!” he pointed at her strictly. “She was being mean and she knows it.”

Another book flew his way but this time he was ready, turning and catching it out of the air. At least Martha was looking quite impressed. He guessed, however, that there was retribution to follow for avoiding this particular hit. Maybe she would trip him over the carpet on the way out. He would have to be on guard.

“Did you get me cake, too?” Martha asked, hopefully.

“Of course” he said, trailing the cover of the attacking book thoughtfully. ‘Sweeping Magnetism’, that was very close to the title. By this point she was just taunting him. “I put it in the kitchen for you.”

“Well, then, I’ll let you two fight in peace and eat my cake” Martha decided. She turned to walk away, when something caught her gaze and she froze.

“Hang on” she said, reaching for the shelf next to her and pulling out a book. “Isn’t this it?”

She turned and showed him exactly the work he had been searching for. Of course, the TARDIS would make her find it without any issues at all.

He still hurried forward, pulling the book out of Martha’s hand.

“It is!” he exclaimed contentedly.

“You’re welcome” Martha grinned.

“Thanks” he beamed at her. “You’re a star. Now I can save the console!”

“With a vacuum cleaner?”

“Nope!” He wanted to brush past her, when another book hit his back.

“Hey, I am already on the solution!” he complained. “It’s basically done.”

Nevertheless, he noticed that the hit hadn’t been as painful this time. The accompanying chirp also sounded more friendly than before.

He turned around to examine the book on the floor. It was a small poetry book. Poetry from Gallifrey that he had loved to read as a child. He bent down to pick it up, a smile growing on his face. Before he got up, he pressed his flat hand to the floor in thanks.

“Apology accepted” he whispered.

Martha was saying something about the cake and leaving to the kitchen but he barely listened. He hurried out the library, both books firmly in his grasp and his head full with plans of building the magnetic machine.

“Maybe I can even integrate it into the console” he proposed to the TARDIS who was helpfully providing a tinkering shed right next to the library. “Make your console forever crumb-proof. That would be something, dear, don’t you think?”

This time the answer was immediate. A warm wave of fondness and support for the endeavour. He bit back a grin and started rummaging through his pockets for the sonic.

“Let’s never fight again, okay?” he asked.

The answering chirp was nothing but a resounding confirmation of both her love for him and the fact that there were many more fights to come. She was even looking forward to it. And maybe he was, too. Just a little bit.

I hope you liked it! :) I definitely had fun!